


A Warm Bed on a Cold Winter's Night

by rubyofkukundu



Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell & Related Fandoms, Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: First Time, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sharing a Bed, Spoilers, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-07
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-06-07 00:53:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 65,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6778144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyofkukundu/pseuds/rubyofkukundu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is so cold at Starecross Hall that Mr Segundus asks if he may share Childermass' bed for the night. Unfortunately, this is not so easy as might be supposed, for Mr Segundus is a man with sinful thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: This story contains spoilers for the end of the book.
> 
> ***
> 
> Written for the following prompt (<http://jsmn-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1613.html?thread=1659469#cmt1659469>):
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> **Segundus/Childermass, keeping warm**  
>  _
> 
>  
> 
> _If I recall correctly, the fact that Childermass is pretty much oblivious to cold/rain is flagged up several times in the book._
> 
>  
> 
> _Sooo - it's wintertime, and Starecross is bloody freezing. A cold and lonely Segundus concludes that Childermass must have bodily warmth to spare and contrives to lure him into bed. Smut ensues._
> 
>  
> 
> _tl;dr: if someone could just get the Duracell bunnies of this fandom at it again, cheers!_

Imagine, if you will, a small Yorkshire village squatting quite alone amidst a great, white expanse of moorland (for it had snowed very recently). All other habitation must have felt a very long way away from this insignificant, brown, little place. It appeared, almost, to have huddled in on itself against the blowing of the wind (for it was windy also; bitterly so). Poor souls must they have seemed, those that lived here!

Yet live here they did. Starecross (for that was the village's name) may have been a small place, but it contained its own complement of cottages and families. Indeed, Starecross even sported a manor house! This great house was an odd, ramshackle sort-of-a-place, with buildings and courtyards all of odd sizes and at odd angles. Take, for example, its windows: some were large with clear panes of glass, and some were so small (and with glass so dark) that it is hard to imagine that anyone could have seen out of them at all. Take also its chimneys: how twisted they looked! And at such different heights!

Who lived in such a place? Was it anyone as odd and as ramshackle as the building itself? Bless me; no. Once perhaps, it may have had an eccentric owner, but in these modern times Starecross Hall was owned by a sensible lady by the name of Lennox, who had set the place up as a school for magicians.

The school was a rather recent endeavour; it had been founded only the year previously, but it was already filled with twenty or so keen students. It is impossible, of course, to have students without someone also to teach them, and this office had fallen to a friend of Mrs Lennox: one John Segundus, a magician (small and dark in his person, with a quiet bearing). We must take note of this Mr Segundus, for it is he whom we shall follow in this tale.

Inside Starecross Hall its rooms were just as jumbled as its outward appearance would suggest. Why, there was one of the dormitories for the boys, up two flights of stairs and at the end of a corridor that twisted and turned a great deal for no apparent reason. There was a small drawing room containing furniture that would have been out-of-date one hundred years ago, where half-way up one wall sat a little door (though where this door led, I must admit I do not know). And there was the library, with a wooden floor that sloped several inches from one end to the other as if the man who had built it were drunk at the time of its construction.

Most of the inhabitants of Starecross Hall had grown quite used to this unusual state of affairs. (And we must note that the rooms in most frequent use for the school had been repaired, decorated and neatened not so very long ago.) The odd conglomeration of rooms in that place served only as an unnoticed backdrop to the lessons that were taught, to the magic that was practiced, and to the work of the servants as they cooked and cleaned and waited upon the boys.

On this particular night Starecross Hall was emptier than normal. If you listened closely you would have heard no rowdy conversations between students nor any footsteps as they tramped from room to room. The reason for this was that it was mid-December and the boys had not long ago left to stay with their families for the Christmas season. Without the boys there was no need for so many servants, thus many of these good people had returned to their families also.

Empty indeed. In Starecross Hall at this time you would have found only Mr Segundus, the master; the few servants that were needed to keep the house at such a quiet time; and Mr Segundus' two friends: John Childermass (a magician) and Vinculus (another magician, although of a rather different sort).

How may I introduce Childermass and Vinculus to you? Perhaps I need not do so in such detail, as we shall meet them soon enough. For now you need only know this: that Childermass and Vinculus were a rather itinerant pair, who spent their time wandering up and down the country so that Childermass might show Vinculus to all who wished to view him. Vinculus, you see, had been blessed with a strange writing upon his skin (which was generally thought to have been placed there by that greatest of magicians, the Raven King) and Childermass, being previously the servant of another magician (one Mr Norrell) but now a free man in his own right, had been equally blessed with a desire to translate that writing upon Vinculus' skin (and so learn of all the magic it contained).

Being friends with the master of Starecross Hall, both Childermass and Vinculus visited that place regularly. For weeks at a time you would find them there, partaking of all those homely comforts that such a house can provide, while also partaking of Mr Segundus' magical knowledge and curiosity (which, whenever Childermass and Vinculus came to stay, were directed towards Vinculus' writing and Childermass' attempts to discover its meaning).

On this night, were we to enter Starecross Hall, we would find it very quiet (even more so than we might have expected). Where were Childermass and Vinculus? Where were the servants? And where was their master? Why, they were all tucked up in bed against the cold! For it was so very cold. I have mentioned that it had snowed recently, and the gardens and courtyards lay under a thick, white carpet. All about the house was frost and gloom. There was no moon, as the clouds were heavy and dark, threatening yet more snow, and cold winds lashed the building, making the icicles that hung from the eaves tremble.

As with all old houses, Starecross Hall was not a warm place (despite the wooden panelling in most of the rooms) and there were always some odd corners and corridors in which you would have felt as cold as if you were outside, so draughty were they. To counter this, all day fires had been burning in the rooms most in use in the house, though I am sorry to say that these fires seemed to have made but little difference. Now that night had fallen, further fires had been lit in those bedrooms that were occupied and had been left to die down into embers while the inhabitants of the house slept.

Mr Segundus, the master of the house, perhaps fared least well of all in this chill weather. The fireplace in his bedroom was wide, but the room was also wide, full of cold corners and sporting big, draughty windows. Not to mention, in such cold weather the servants at Starecross slept two-a-bed to keep warm, while the master had the luxury of privacy (and all the cold solitude that this entailed).

Normally Mr Segundus was quite happy with his bedroom, for it was spacious and bright; perfect for storing his books and notes and for reading them also. In all his previous abodes (Mr Segundus having had many) not ever had he had a bedroom so large, and he was extremely grateful that he could call such a room his own. Nor was Mr Segundus bothered by the solitude on most occasions, for he had always been a private man, and after a long day of teaching students or discussing magic there was nothing he enjoyed more than to enter his own realm of peace and there escape from being disturbed until the next morning.

On a night as cold as this, however, (and it was so very cold) Mr Segundus found that he liked his bedroom not at all. It had now been perhaps an hour since Mr Segundus had first got into bed; when he had done so he had been quite content, for the curtains around his bed were thick, the fire had still been high, and the sheets had still been warm from the warming pan. Such comfort was, sadly, not to last. Mr Segundus had fallen quickly asleep and had slept for, oh, half an hour or so before he had woken feeling very cold indeed. Now, it seems, the fire had died down and any heat from the warming pan had long since gone.

Such a chilly state of affairs is not conducive to a good night's rest and so Mr Segundus had risen, thrown another log upon the fire, and pulled out an extra blanket from the chest at the end of his bed. After a short while, Mr Segundus rose again and pulled out another blanket. Moments later he did so again. Soon Mr Segundus lay in bed with some five or six blankets piled on top of him. What was more, he had also pulled his dressing gown on over his nightshirt, pulled a pair of stockings on over his feet, and pulled a second nightcap down over his first. Yet still he lay there and shivered!

Poor Mr Segundus had not known a night as cold as this for a long time. He found himself thinking unhappily of all the hours that must pass before the sun would deign to rise again. He thought also, and rather jealously, of the servants in their small rooms with their small windows and not nearly so many draughts. That all the servants were sharing beds, Mr Segundus knew well, for he had been keen to ensure that those under his care were comfortable, and thus had discussed the arrangements with his manservant, Charles, as Charles had helped him to bed that evening.

Mr Segundus did not normally enjoy sharing a bed (which he had done many times previously, not ever being able to afford a room to himself while travelling) but how pleasant it seemed now! How comforting it would be to have another warm body beneath the blankets; far better than any warming pan. And the more Mr Segundus thought on it, the more jealous he became (though he knew, of course, that for a gentleman to be jealous of his servants was a ridiculous and ungrateful state of affairs). He wished that it would have been permissible for the master of the house to sleep with one of the servants also. Yet none of the servants would have been comfortable with such a practice, even were there a space in a bed free, which Mr Segundus knew there was not.

This train of thought led easily to the next. But what of Mr Segundus' guests? How did they fare in such weather? Poor Mr Segundus felt rather guilty to realise that he had not thought to suggest that they also share a room on such a night. Certainly, Childermass and Vinculus had not complained the night before, and certainly they had been provided with ample fires and blankets and warming pans, but it was so much colder tonight! Were they truly comfortable? This led to another bout of jealousy, for the rooms that Childermass and Vinculus had been given were rather on the small side (Childermass refusing to accept anything larger) so perhaps they were both far warmer than was Mr Segundus now. Perhaps, even, Childermass and Vinculus had thought to share a bed of their own volition, and so were doubly as warm.

Such a cacophony of thought! Poor Mr Segundus lay there wracked with jealousy and then wracked with guilt at such jealousy. Were Childermass and Vinculus truly comfortable? Surely they would make it known if they were not (and Mr Segundus did not think either man likely to shrink from saying such things). And yet if they were comfortable, then how much greater was that comfort when compared to Mr Segundus himself?

After some time of this, with Mr Segundus growing colder and colder and unhappier and unhappier, he came to a decision. It was not a decision that he would normally have made, but it is well known that discomfort can do wonders for a man's sense of what is acceptable.

Mr Segundus' decision was this: he would check to see if Childermass and Vinculus were sharing a bed and were truly comfortable. If they were, then Mr Segundus would return to his own room to pile yet more blankets upon his own bed and yet more logs upon his own fire. If they were neither sharing nor comfortable, then Mr Segundus would do whatever was needed to make them so, chiefly by proposing that he join one or other of them in their bed and so grow warm himself.

As I have said, it was not normally in Mr Segundus' nature to wander the house at night, knocking on people's bedroom doors and asking to climb into their beds, but these were not normal circumstances. Thus Mr Segundus pulled back his bed-curtains, lit his candle, and climbed out of bed. Oh! how cold it was! He hastily tugged his coat and his breeches on over his nightclothes, slipped his feet into his slippers, and left his room in search of company.

Childermass' and Vinculus' rooms lay on the other side of the house, and the walk through several cold corridors to get there seemed unbearably long to Mr Segundus. Indeed, it was so cold in those corridors that it was with a great sense of urgency that Mr Segundus finally reached his destination. The first room he came upon was that used by Vinculus. Mr Segundus wasted no time; he was just in the process of summoning his courage to knock upon the door (and potentially rouse its sleeping inhabitant) when he was stilled by a noise. What noise, you ask? Why, it was a snore which issued loudly from behind the door! Pausing, Mr Segundus held his breath and listened; he was rewarded with a further snore.

All desire to knock upon Vinculus' door left Mr Segundus in an instant. It was abundantly clear to him that Vinculus was at least comfortable enough to sleep (presuming that the snore came from Vinculus and not from Childermass; for Mr Segundus was still not certain whether or not those two men had decided to share a bed for the night). Why wake a sleeping man to ask him if he is warm enough to sleep? He will not thank you for it.

Thus, content that Vinculus was comfortable, if only for the moment, Mr Segundus instead turned his attention toward Childermass. The room that this man normally occupied lay at the end of another corridor, and so Mr Segundus made his way along it as quietly as possible. Once outside Childermass' door, Mr Segundus decided not to knock immediately; instead he held himself quite still to see if he could hear another snore from inside.

Despite waiting for several minutes, no snore was forthcoming. And so what to do? Was the room empty (and Childermass in Vinculus' room)? Was Childermass awake? Or was he asleep and merely quiet? There was no way of knowing. For a moment Mr Segundus found himself lost for direction. He did not wish to wake Childermass (and thus risk his displeasure), but he did not wish to enter the room without knocking either. That would suggest that Mr Segundus should instead have returned to his own room without following through on his plan, but Mr Segundus was so cold and so unhappy that he could not countenance the thought of _that_.

And so, hoping that Childermass was awake, while also bracing himself for the worst, Mr Segundus brought up his hand and knocked upon the door. Silence followed. Mr Segundus waited for several moments. Perhaps the room truly was empty? Uncertain, but unwilling to stop before he had reached an answer, Mr Segundus knocked again, louder this time. At this there came a soft noise from inside the room, then another. Was that the sound of a footstep? The creak of a floorboard? Soon the door-handle was turning and the door was opening and Mr Segundus found himself face-to-face with Childermass, who was in his nightshirt and nightcap and peering through half-opened eyes as if he had just woken up.

"Oh," said Mr Segundus, flooding with guilt. "I am sorry, Mr Childermass. I have woken you."

Childermass huffed and blinked several times. "Ay," he said. Then, blinking some more, he looked Mr Segundus up and down with a confused frown upon his face.

It was only at this moment that Mr Segundus thought to consider what an odd sight he made with his clothes pulled hastily on, his coat atop his dressing gown, and two nightcaps upon his head. Embarrassment sought suddenly to overthrow the guilt within Mr Segundus' mind, which must have resulted in a strange expression to complete his unusual appearance.

"Is something the matter, Mr Segundus?" asked Childermass, with his voice rough from sleep.

Oh my. What great cold will do to a person! For Mr Segundus had intended at that moment to apologise again, and to ask Childermass if he had all he needed for comfort and warmth. But it seems that the part of Mr Segundus responsible for speech had no time for such niceties as these. Instead Mr Segundus found himself saying, "It is so very very cold, Mr Childermass. Please may I join you in your bed?"

Childermass looked at him for a moment and then nodded. "Of course." Childermass held open the door so that Mr Segundus might step inside, then closed it behind him.

Mr Segundus found himself overwhelmed with gratitude. And the room was so much warmer than the corridor! As I have said, Childermass' bedroom was far smaller than Segundus', thus a good amount of heat from the low fire still lingered between the panelled walls. Said fire cast a warm, orange glow over everything it saw, including the bed, which looked as if it were comfort itself with its rumpled mattress and blankets and thick, heavy curtains.

"Thank you," said Mr Segundus earnestly. "Thank you."

Childermass yawned as he walked back to the bed. "Make yourself comfortable," said he, climbing underneath the covers, with his back to Mr Segundus, and settling his head upon the bolster.

"Thank you," said Mr Segundus again.

This earned little more than a shrug of one shoulder from Childermass, and so Mr Segundus put out his candle, slipped off his coat, slippers and breeches (though he kept his dressing gown and stockings on), and climbed into the bed, pulling the curtains shut behind him.

Oh, blissful warmth! Oh, such a soft, dark place! Mr Segundus shivered again as he made himself comfortable beneath the blankets, but it was not a shiver from the cold; rather, it was one of those shivers that result from a thrill of pure joy. Childermass' bed, being already slept in, was as warm and as comfortable as Mr Segundus could ever have hoped for. Behind him Childermass had already fallen asleep, it seemed, for his breathing was heavy and even.

'I must thank Mr Childermass properly later,' thought Mr Segundus as he closed his eyes. 'I must, I must, I must.' And so warm was the bed, and so tired had Mr Segundus been, that he fell asleep in barely more than a moment, with his mind full of gratitude and nothing more.

Mr Segundus spent the next several hours in peaceful oblivion, bothered neither by dreams nor by discomforts of the body. Yet, all who have spent a winter in England will know that the nights in December are so long that it is nigh-on impossible to sleep the whole night through without at least some period of wakefulness in the middle. Thus it was that after Mr Segundus had been asleep for an amount of time he woke again. Lying there in the darkness of the room he found himself immediately aware of two things: the first was that he could hear Childermass making water into the chamber pot beside the bed (which noise had presumably woken him), and the second was that he was now so far from being cold that he was, in fact, rather hot.

You see, so warm was it in Childermass' bed (Childermass, it seemed, having a warmer constitution than many people) that Mr Segundus had no need of the extra clothing he had put on in the cold of his own room. Thankfully, this was easily resolved, and in moments Mr Segundus had tugged off his dressing gown and his stockings and his second nightcap and had flung them out through the bed-curtains and onto the bedroom floor.

"Oh," said Childermass as Mr Segundus heard him climb back into the bed and pull the curtains shut behind him. "Did I wake you, Mr Segundus? I apologise."

"No, no," said Mr Segundus. "I feel I was ready to wake anyway."

The fire had by now died out, leaving the room fully dark, especially behind the bed-curtains; this meant that Mr Segundus couldn't see Childermass, but he could nevertheless feel him lying back down in the bed. Mr Segundus did so also, setting his head upon the bolster.

"How did you sleep?" asked Childermass.

"Very well," replied Mr Segundus. "Very well indeed." And remembering his final thoughts before he had fallen asleep, Mr Segundus made sure to say, "Thank you very much, Mr Childermass, for allowing me to share your bed tonight. It was very kind of you; very kind."

Childermass huffed in a way that made Mr Segundus think he were sporting a smile. "I wasn't using all of it," said Childermass, "so I am hardly put out."

"And I am sorry for waking you before," said Mr Segundus.

"It is nothing," replied Childermass, and Mr Segundus felt the mattress shift, as if Childermass were stretching out his arms and legs.

Mr Segundus lay there for a while, and then a thought struck him. "Oh!" said he. "Mr Childermass, do you think Vinculus is well? Will he be comfortable enough without sharing a bed? (As I think he is the only person in the house not doing so.)" Mr Segundus looked up into the darkness. "I had heard him snoring earlier, you see, and so I had not wanted to wake him. Whereas... ah... when I came to your door, Mr Childermass, I didn't hear you snoring, and so I had thought that you might have been awake and cold, which is why I knocked and..." Mr Segundus scratched at his elbow. "Do you think I did wrong by not offering to sleep in Vinculus' bed? I did not wish to wake him, of course, but perhaps he might have been cold. Perhaps he might still be cold. Ought I to offer to share his bed now?" Mr Segundus thought for a moment. "Though, of course, that would leave you cold instead, Mr Childermass, and I don't wish for that either. Maybe it would be best for the two of you to share together, then, and I shall return to my room."

"Mr Segundus," said Childermass with the amusement clear in his voice. "You need not worry. I do not feel the cold so very much, and I can tell you that Vinculus does not either." He huffed again. "Why, I've seen Vinculus sleep upon a roadside more times than I can remember. A night like this in a soft bed with soft blankets will hardly trouble him; I imagine he'll sleep the whole night through!"

"You are certain?" asked Mr Segundus. "He will not be angry with me?"

To this, Mr Childermass merely laughed as if the idea were ridiculous. Mr Segundus could not help but smile in return.

The mattress shifted again, as if Childermass were turning over. "Speaking of Vinculus," said Childermass. "I believe we did a good day's work upon the King's letters yesterday, do you not?" (These, as I have said, were the letters written upon Vinculus' skin.) "Small progress it may be, but it feels like progress nonetheless. What did you think about that symbol upon his elbow that I showed you?"

Thus Childermass and Mr Segundus fell to discussing their work translating the signs upon Vinculus' skin. This conversation lasted for a good while; but slowly the pauses between their sentences grew, and their answers became shorter, until eventually both Childermass and Mr Segundus, one after the other, fell back asleep.

Mr Segundus' second sleep was just as pleasant as the first. Perhaps it was even more so, for a good conversation will often provoke good dreams. Of the dreams he had, Mr Segundus did not remember most, but the later it grew (and perhaps you have found this yourself) the more vivid his dreams became until, when he was almost upon the cusp of wakefulness, he had a dream that would linger on into the waking world.

Some dreams are like a play in which one is the main player: there are scenes and acts and actors and a great many things happen, all of which lead on from one to another. Yet some dreams are less so, and appear instead to be the merest fragments of thoughts and feelings. Mr Segundus' dream that morning was one of the latter kind. He could not remember much of it later, but he knew that there had been a warm voice, and laughter. There had been John Childermass, smiling, and John Childermass' body in the same bed. There had been a question (brief, playful) and an equally playful answer. And there had been skin, warm skin, and a rush of excitement. Moving limbs. Hands. A thigh. Oh, and it was warm; heady, playful laughter, and Childermass had smiled as he... as he... Oh, just a little more! Don't stop! Just once more and I...!

Mr Segundus woke feeling all that warmth, laughter and playfulness within him. Sadly, such pleasant feelings were not to last, as he soon woke further and realised what had come to pass. How shameful the contents of his dream! And how shameful his current state! Yes indeed; furtively, Mr Segundus reached down and discovered that his private member was very much stiff beneath his nightshirt but that, thankfully, he had not suffered from any embarrassing emissions as a result.

Light was beginning to filter through the bed-curtains, but Mr Segundus did not dare to turn and look at Childermass, whose weight he could feel on the mattress behind him. Hopefully Childermass was still asleep. Hopefully Mr Segundus had not cried out while dreaming! Oh, such mortification to imagine Childermass discovering the contents of Mr Segundus' thoughts!

If there is any good to be had in the feelings of guilt and shame it is that they will trample all other feelings in their path. Any lingering lust that may have remained in Mr Segundus' mind (for we must not be coy here: lust it was) was fully extinguished in but a few minutes, and any physical presentation of such lust (that is, Mr Segundus' private piece being hard) was, thankfully, extinguished at the same time.

All this meant that by the time the chambermaid entered the room to make up the fire, Mr Segundus was able to act as if nothing whatsoever had happened, save from a look of guilt which he had not, perhaps, been able to entirely erase from his face.

Hearing the chambermaid go about her work and thinking it an apt moment to make his escape from the now-uncomfortable presence of Childermass, Mr Segundus pushed back the bed-curtains and climbed out of bed. He closed the curtains behind him so that Childermass need not be woken also, but it seems there was no need for this, for the chambermaid then gave such a squeak of surprise to see her master in this room that it would have woken sleep itself.

It took all of Mr Segundus' strength not to glance warily at the bed-curtains but to instead affect nonchalance. "I beg your pardon, Mary," said he (for Mary was the chambermaid's name). "I did not mean to startle you. It was so cold last night that I asked to share a bed with Mr Childermass." He stepped into his slippers and pulled on his dressing gown. "Did you sleep well, by the way? You weren't cold?"

"No, sir," said Mary, bobbing a curtsey (though she was still so surprised that it was not the most graceful of actions). "Thank you, sir. Should... er. Should I ask Charles to lay out your clothes here for you?"

"Thank you, Mary, but no." Mr Segundus bent down to retrieve his stockings, second nightcap, breeches and coat, feeling rather proud to act so calmly. "I shall take my toilet in my own room." He thought for a second and then pulled on his coat over his dressing gown once more (for doubtless the corridors back to his room would be as cold now as they had been the night before).

At this moment, against Mr Segundus' most fervent wishes, the bed-curtains opened and Childermass climbed out of bed. Poor Mary bobbed another confused curtsey as Childermass walked around the bed to see them, and any calm that Mr Segundus might have felt disappeared in an instant.

"You may dress here if you wish," said Childermass, yawning and leaning a shoulder against the bedpost. "I can go out and leave you in peace; it is no trouble. After all, it is a cold day to be wandering the house in only your nightclothes."

Poor Mr Segundus blushed up rather red at this. He pulled his breeches on over his nightshirt (attempting not to appear as if in a great haste to do so). "No, no, Mr Childermass; it is fine," said Mr Segundus. "I do not wish to disturb you any more than is necessary. I have already woken you early." And with an apologetic smile to accompany this last remark, Mr Segundus thrust his stockings and second nightcap into his coat pocket, took up his unlit candle and fled the room.


	2. Chapter 2

Mr Segundus took his toilet in his own room, just as he had declared he would do. (And his room that morning, I must add, was just as cold as he had thought it would be.)

Charles, who was on the other side of the room brushing down Mr Segundus' coat, said, "I hear, sir, that you shared a bed with Mr Childermass last night."

Mr Segundus was at that moment shaving at his basin and looking glass, and only just kept himself from starting up and cutting himself at this pronouncement. "Ah. Yes," said Mr Segundus. "Yes I did." He rinsed his razor in the basin. "It was so cold that I was forced to seek company. You, ah. Did you sleep well, Charles? And the other servants also? Have you spoken to everyone?"

"No-one complained of the cold if that is what you ask," said Charles. "But it seems that not everyone enjoys sharing a bed so easily."

"Oh dear." Mr Segundus turned to him in concern. "Have some people grown angry with each other; is that what you mean?"

Charles shrugged. "It is not as if it has come to blows yet, sir. Not quite, anyway."

"Oh dear," said Mr Segundus again. "We can't have that. We can't have that at all." He thought for a moment. "Will you see that the sleeping arrangements are altered for tonight, Charles? I would not wish for any animosity to grow further by placing the wrong people together in the same bed. Ask Mrs Bull; she will know what best to do." (Mrs Bull was the housekeeper.)

Charles gave a rather odd smile at this, but he didn't deign to explain himself further. Instead he asked, "Do you mean to sleep with Mr Childermass again tonight, sir?"

Mr Segundus turned back to his basin and his task and tried not to look as alarmed at this question as he truthfully was. You see, after the embarrassment of that morning, Mr Segundus did not desire to share a bed with Childermass ever again. (Oh, to think of Mr Segundus waking up with his private piece hard on a second occasion! To think of Childermass discovering it to be so!) But if Mr Segundus declined to sleep with Childermass again, then Charles (and, what was more, Childermass himself) might wish to know the answer why, and there was no way Mr Segundus could tell them that.

After a few moments in which Mr Segundus shaved with all the appearance (he hoped) of being calm, he decided that he could not risk a second occurrence of such an embarrassing event, no matter how difficult it might be to explain his reasons. "Ah, no, thank you, Charles. I believe I shall be fine in my own bed tonight," said Mr Segundus to his basin. "And I do not mean that Mr Childermass and I have quarrelled, of course," he clarified, turning to Charles. "But I would not wish to impose on Mr Childermass' good nature too much. I know, for he has told me, that he does not feel the cold so very much, so I am sure that the discomfort of having another person in his bed will far outweigh any warmth I might bring." Mr Segundus turned back to his looking glass. "I shall leave Mr Childermass in peace tonight; you may make up my room as normal."

"You are certain that you will not be cold?" asked Charles.

(Unfortunately, Mr Segundus was not certain of this at all.) "I shall make do," said he, trying not to sound too rueful at the thought of it. "Perhaps you might find me another blanket or two, if you can?"

Charles was silent for a moment (and Mr Segundus tried hard not to watch him in the looking glass and guess what he might be thinking). But Charles was not a quarrelsome man; he merely said, "As you wish, sir. I shall speak to Mrs Bull."

Not long later Mr Segundus joined Childermass and Vinculus in the small drawing room in which they normally took their meals when the school was empty of students. Already there was a large fire burning in the hearth, for the day did not seem to be growing any warmer as the hours passed. Thankfully, breakfast was as warm as one could wish for, with hot rolls from the oven and hot cups of tea to accompany them.

As they ate, Mr Segundus took pains not to look too much at Childermass for fear of growing even more embarrassed at the memory of his dream that morning (and of Childermass' very particular role therein). Therefore Mr Segundus turned his attention instead to Vinculus and asked if he had slept well and whether he might have been cold? (You see, embarrassed though Mr Segundus might have been, he was still able to feel guilty that he had ignored Vinculus' bed in favour of Childermass'.) 

"Cold, was it, last night?" asked Vinculus. "It certainly feels so this morning." And he cast an unhappy glance at the snow and icy gloom that showed through the window.

Mr Segundus felt rather relieved to hear this. "You slept well, then, I take it? I am glad. For I worried, perhaps, that you might have wished to share a bed with Mr Childermass last night." Mr Segundus scratched at his head. "And I must confess that I had stolen him from you."

Vinculus threw Mr Segundus a confused stare (or, at least, as confused a stare as one may wear while chewing heavily upon a bread roll).

When an uncomfortable silence thus began to grow (this silence being of a rather concerned kind upon Mr Segundus' part and of a rather confused kind upon Vinculus'), Childermass, who had been listening, smiled his wry smile. "Mr Segundus means," said Childermass, turning this smile upon Vinculus, "that he was so cold last night he asked to share my bed to keep warm. He worries, however, that this action left you without a bed-mate and thus cold."

Mr Segundus nodded in agreement (perhaps more vigorously than was truly needed). "Vinculus, if you wish to sleep with Mr Childermass from now on then by all means you must. I will not mind. Indeed," said Mr Segundus, "I do not wish to impose myself on Mr Childermass too much, and so I have determined to sleep on my own tonight."

Vinculus' laughter at this statement was loud and sharp. "Share a bed?" he asked. "No, thank you." And he gestured at Childermass with a thrust of his chin. " _This one_ is so reluctant to spend his money that I am forced to share a bed with him whenever we stay in an inn. How tiresome that is! I have had more than enough of it. Here in your house, Mr Segundus, I am able to find some blessed solitude, and I wouldn't give that up for the world. Not even were my bed as cold as the devil's bollocks!"

Some people might find it insulting to hear their company described thus, but Childermass did not appear to mind it so. He turned an even more amused smile upon Mr Segundus.

"Ah," said Mr Segundus. "That is... Well, I am glad that you were comfortable." He cleared his throat and addressed his next remark to Childermass. "I had not realised you were so unused to having a bed to yourself, Mr Childermass. It must have made my presence even more unwanted." Mr Segundus gave him an apologetic look. "You may rest assured that I will leave you in peace tonight."

It was just as Mr Segundus said these last words that Mrs Bull, the housekeeper, entered the room. "In peace, sir?" she asked, bobbing a curtsey and smoothing her apron down over her skirts. "Mr Segundus," said she, "I hear from Charles that you shared a bed with Mr Childermass last night?"

"Ah, yes," confirmed Mr Segundus.

"And Charles tells me that you do not mean to share a bed with Mr Childermass tonight?"

Mr Segundus shook his head. "No, Mrs Bull."

"Hence 'leaving him in peace' as you say?"

"Yes," said Mr Segundus, rather warily.

"And this is what Mr Childermass wishes, is it?" asked Mrs Bull, turning her attention to that man.

Childermass gave her a smile in return. "Mr Segundus," said he, "seems to be under the impression that his company is unwanted, Mrs Bull, but he is wrong." Childermass turned to Mr Segundus. "I do not delight in my solitude quite so much as Vinculus, sir. If it keeps you warm and comfortable in such cold weather, then you may rest assured that I am happy to have you share my bed for as many nights as you wish."

"Ah," said Mr Segundus, looking down at his breakfast with some little alarm, "that is a kind offer, Mr Childermass. Thank you. But I am sure I shall not be so cold tonight. If you do not think you will feel the cold without me, then it will be easiest for the both of us to keep to our own rooms. Perhaps, even, I made you too warm in your bed last night with my presence." Mr Segundus shook his head some more. "No. It is a very kind offer, Mr Childermass, but I shall not impose upon you."

At this point two noises filled the room: the first was Childermass huffing a laugh, and the second was Mrs Bull throwing up her hands with a cry of, "Lord! Mr Segundus!"

"Do you not see, Mr Segundus," said Mrs Bull, "how cold it is this morning? I am quite certain it is colder than it was yesterday morning. Why, we have built up the fires even more today but do you notice how they do not heat the room any further?" She heaved a sigh. "And colder and colder it will get today, I'll warrant. Do you really think, sir, that you will be able to sleep on your own tonight when you found that you could not yesterday?"

Mr Segundus went to reply that he would manage somehow, but he had only just opened his mouth when Mrs Bull turned to Childermass and continued on some more. "Mr Childermass," said she, "it is not my place to tell my master what he must do, but perhaps, as his friend, I might ask you to entreat him for me? For I am sure that, like myself, sir, you cannot bear to think of Mr Segundus lying alone in his room so cold when there is an easy remedy. After all, how may anyone stand by and see a good man torment himself in such a way? Goodness me; and Mr Segundus is sure to feel the cold more than most people! Why, there is no meat on his bones! (Not that we haven't tried to feed him up, Mr Childermass; let me assure you.) I cannot, in good conscience, let Mr Segundus make himself so cold that he is like to grow ill with it. And how is the school to cope with the master ill so?" Mrs Bull bestowed a sorrowful glance upon Mr Segundus, as if she imagined he were ill already. "It is kind of you, Mr Childermass," she said, "to offer that Mr Segundus might sleep in your bed to keep warm. And I am sure Mr Segundus knows how good of you it is to offer. You must not be offended that he turns you down. He thinks he is doing you a kindness; he does not mean it as an affront against your person."

If you were to look at Mr Segundus during the course of this speech, you would have seen him growing paler and paler while a frown of concern spread across his brow. You see, he had not once considered that his sleeping arrangements might have been held as so important by Mrs Bull. Indeed, he might perhaps have felt some consternation at her accusing tone, were it not for the fact that he knew, within himself, that there was a good deal of truth to her words.

"I..." said Mr Segundus, looking warily to Childermass. "Mr Childermass, I most certainly did not mean to snub you by turning down your offer. Please do not think that I..."

Childermass laughed. "I am not offended, Mr Segundus. You need not fear. But Mrs Bull is right; I would not like to see you grow ill when it could so easily be prevented." Here, Childermass' expression turned rather more serious. "Please, Mr Segundus, consider your own comfort. I should be happy for you to share my bed while it is cold. Indeed, if it is to be as cold as Mrs Bull predicts, then the warmth you bring would be welcome to me (for even I cannot stand a cold bed when the temperature drops too low). And your conversation during the night, as it was last night, would be the more welcome still."

Poor Mr Segundus! How could he say no to such sensible reasoning? (And to such a compliment?) He could not. While he was still wary of his shameful dream reoccurring, he was fully aware of how cold it was that day and how pleasant another night in a warm bed would truly be. Besides, there was not any way in which Mr Segundus might turn down Childermass' offer now without seeming very ungrateful indeed. It was clear that Childermass did not mind sharing a bed, and so Mr Segundus was no longer able to refuse without risking the real reason for his reluctance becoming known.

Thus it was with a measure of relief (and an equal measure of dread) that Mr Segundus acquiesced: "Thank you, Mr Childermass. If it will truly be no trouble to you, then I would be happy to share your bed."

Mrs Bull clapped her hands together. "I am glad, sir. For I should fret if you weren't comfortable. And how nice it must be to share with a friend who may provide you with good company and good conversation; sharing a bed is not always so easy as that, I must say, if you happen to be unlucky in your choice of bed-mate."

Here, Vinculus let out a snort of laughter, as if he quite agreed with the sentiment.

Yet Mr Segundus had no attention to spare at that moment toward Vinculus, for he fancied that he may at last have understood Charles' cryptic comments from earlier that morning. Warily, therefore, Mr Segundus asked. "And how did you sleep last night, Mrs Bull? Were you well? You slept with Mrs Hitchin did you not?" (Mrs Hitchin was the cook.)

"Ay; with Mrs Hitchin," said Mrs Bull, bobbing a curtsey. "And I manage, sir. I manage."

Oh dear. That did not bode well. "You were warm enough?" asked Mr Segundus.

"Ay, plenty warm, sir." Another curtsey. "Indeed, I would have slept like a babe if Mrs Hitchin did not snore so loud it would wake a dead man."

"Ah," said Mr Segundus as all became clear. He thought for a moment. "Perhaps you might find it easier to swap with one of the other servants, Mrs Bull?" he suggested. "You could sleep with one of the housemaids maybe."

Mrs Bull gave Mr Segundus a very complicated look (which seemed, nevertheless, to suggest that she wouldn't stoop so low as to sleep with a _housemaid_ ). "Thank you, sir," said she, "but it would be unkind of me to force Mrs Hitchin upon anyone else." She shook her head. "You need not worry. I manage, sir, as I say. A quick kick to the shin, I have found, stops any snoring on an instant." She bobbed a curtsey to all present. "Now. I shall go see to it that all is ready for you both to share tonight, Mr Segundus and Mr Childermass." And with that she left the room. 

Mr Segundus watched her go with some concern. "I hope they do not come to further blows," said he.

Childermass merely laughed in return.

Once they had finished their breakfast, all three of Mr Segundus, Childermass and Vinculus remained in the little drawing room (so that the servants were forced to clear the table while they were still present). You see, so cold was it that day that not any of them desired to move away from the warm fire in that room. This was especially important as Childermass wished for them to study the writing upon Vinculus' body some more, which meant that Vinculus must remove some of his clothes.

Childermass placed a chair directly in front of the fire for Vinculus to sit on, so that he might feel the full extent of its warmth.

"You are certain you will not be too cold, Vinculus?" asked Mr Segundus.

Vinculus appeared to think for a moment as he was in the process of removing his coat. He turned to Mr Segundus with raised eyebrows. "A tot of something warming will help me through." He looked about them, presumably to see if there were any suitable bottles present. "Some rum would suit well, or perhaps some sherry?"

Childermass then stopped such speculation in its tracks by ringing for the servants and asking for a pot of chocolate to be brought instead, declaring it plenty warm enough for their purposes. (Vinculus complained about this, but he still drank many cups of the chocolate when it arrived.)

Other than their closeness to the fire, the day passed much as any other did when Childermass and Vinculus were present. Vinculus sat still and quiet (or as still and quiet as he was able, which was not very) while Mr Segundus and Childermass studied the writing upon his person: copying it down, making notes upon it, and discussing it all the while. Childermass had even brought through several books from the library so that they need not leave the warm, little drawing room if they had to look anything up.

For Mr Segundus, the day did not feel so very normal. He found that he was filled with so much shame at the thought of the morning's events, and so much dread at the thought of the night to come, that he was not able to concentrate very well at all.

Was this not odd? Mr Segundus, it is true, was always rather sensitive to what others might think of him, but did his dream (and its bodily effects) need to trouble him so very much? Could he not just resign himself to its having occurred? After all, as shameful as it may be, it is not as if a dream such as this was an unusual occurrence. Why, I am sure it is a common thing for near all of us!

Dreams, as you know, may take in the whole scope of emotions from the most gentle to the most sordid. It is not up to us to choose what dreams we have. It is up to our dreams to choose us. Sometimes, it is true, the contents of a dream would be shameful in the waking world, but we must realise that they do not reflect the desires of those dreaming them. A man may dream one night that he is the Pope. He may dream the next night that he is a horse. In neither case does it mean that the man in his waking life would actually wish to be either the Pope or a horse.

Thus it is that dreams are as inconsequential as the air they are made from, and so should not cause any guilty feelings to those who dream them. Let us take a less benign example. Say a man dreams that he picks another man's pocket and takes a purse of money. This does not mean that the dreamer wishes, in life, to steal. He may understand the joy he was granted in his dream from such an action, but the conscience of an honest man would quickly dismiss such thoughts. "What an odd dream," he would say to himself, "but I have no desire to do such a thing in reality for it is unlawful and wrong." Thus he would continue on about his day with ease.

Surely, then, it is the same with dreams of a more carnal nature? A man may dream of having unlawful knowledge of his brother's wife, or even unlawful knowledge of his brother himself! It does not mean that he truly wishes to do these things. He may feel a little confusion when he wakes, of course, but such dreams are so absurd that he need not let them trouble him further.

Ah, but those are the actions of an honest man! I say that one should not feel guilty for one's actions in a dream, but what if that dream does indeed reflect the desires of the waking world? Take, for example, this man who dreams of stealing a purse of money. Even if he has not ever done such a thing while awake, surely there is a difference in guilt between the man who dismisses such a dream outright and the man who dwells upon it afterward because it mirrors his own longing: the man who considers in detail the joy of the theft; who wishes that it were real; who imagines, achingly, the press of each ill-gotten coin in his palm. 

Such, I am sorry to say, had been the dream of Mr Segundus' that night. This dream's contents were not airy notions that had been hitherto unseen, but were instead shameful thoughts and feelings that Mr Segundus had long harboured and concealed.

You see, Mr Segundus was a sinful man. Not sinful in his deeds perhaps (though he was worried to think that this may have more to do with a lack of opportunity that any moral fortitude) but in his thoughts he was sinful very much. For Mr Segundus desired to have carnal knowledge of other men.

He knew, of course, that he should not desire this thing but he had been unable, from his youngest days, to banish the thought of it from his mind. How other men remained strong in the face of such thoughts, he did not know; presumably he was of a particularly weak temperament (which he knew to be true).

But did I not say that Mr Segundus had never acted upon such desires? Not once had he ever behaved inappropriately toward another man, be it through touch or speech. Not once had he ever made it known to anyone what his shameful desires were. Surely this means that he need not feel so very guilty over them?

Oh, but where does the sin lie? Is it in the carrying out of such desires? Or is it in the presence of the desires themselves? Is it in the man who steals? Or is it in the man who would long to steal if only he could do so without fear of punishment (be it divine or earthly)?

And perhaps I was being untruthful to say that Mr Segundus had never acted upon his desires. He had never acted upon them with another man, of course, but how many were the times that, in his weakness, he had thought long and hard upon these very desires, relishing them in gratuitous detail while he took his private parts in hand and engaged in the act of onanism? (Which is sinful enough in itself, as you know, let alone when combined to such terrible thoughts.)

Is he really free from guilt and from sin, this man who thinks of other men's bodies and how they would look naked and straining in ecstasy? Who imagines what it would be like to touch such naked, straining bodies: to feel flesh and skin, hot, swollen and full beneath his hands? Who wishes that he might kiss and caress and do many other things, so to hear in return the low groan of pleasure from a masculine throat? Who loses himself, spills his seed over his sinful hands, gasping and trembling at the thought of all these things?

No indeed. Mr Segundus was many things, but innocent he was not.

And yet, for a man so steeped in sinful desire, this could hardly be the first time Mr Segundus had dreamt of partaking in unnatural congress with another man. (Of course it was not.) We know that this was also not the first time that Mr Segundus had slept in the same bed as another man. (For he had done so many times in his travels, as I have said.) Could it truly be that this was the first time that Mr Segundus had shared a bed with another and had a dream of a carnal nature at the same time? (Surely not.) Then why so much guilt at this occurrence?

Ah. Well, you see. Mr Segundus may have shared beds before, and he may have suffered from carnal dreams before. But never before had he done either of these things with John Childermass.

For if Mr Segundus was guilty of sinful thoughts, then how much greater was his guilt to suffer such thoughts about a trusted colleague and friend?

Oh, I know what you are thinking. "John Childermass?" you cry. "How might anyone hold John Childermass in desire? He with his tattered clothes and ragged hair and lack of gentleness on all occasions. Do you not see how strange he looks? For he is hardly handsome. Why, his face is so twisted that it looks like a cloth that someone has wrung out and has forgotten to straighten again. When he peers at one (and with a rather sharp, mocking expression at that) he has the unnerving appearance of doing it sideways. Unnatural desires for men, I can understand," you will say, "but an unnatural desire for Childermass I cannot."

You may rest assured that Mr Segundus thought the same thing at first. Upon their initial meetings he considered Childermass to be a strange, dark, ominous-looking man, and certainly attached no thoughts of desire to him then. In those days Mr Segundus' desires were what you might expect (for one as sinful as he). He longed for beautiful men, for well-shaped men, for strong jaws and wide eyes and blushing complexions.

As with us all, Mr Segundus did not meet many men who were truly beautiful, but oh how he savoured those he did meet, and with what joy he talked to them! Take for example, Lady Pole's butler, Stephen Black; there was hardly a more beautiful man in England, so tall and handsome was he. In the brief time in which they met, Mr Segundus found himself rather giddy to talk to this butler, and though Mr Segundus knew that it was his duty to direct his whole mind towards Lady Pole and her care, he found that a mere glance from Stephen Black cast his thoughts and his purpose into all confusion! (Mr Segundus later tried to tell himself that it was the fairy magic surrounding Stephen Black that caused him to feel so, but he knew in truth that it was not.)

How, in but a few years, was Mr Segundus able to transfer his desires from men as noble and handsome as Stephen Black to a man so unusual as John Childermass? Ah. That is all down to familiarity.

When two people have met only briefly they must judge each other on appearances alone; but when they have known each other for far longer, why, then it is their thoughts, actions and temperaments that colour their understanding of each other. By which I mean to say that the longer Mr Segundus knew Childermass, the more he came to desire him.

In his person, Childermass may not have been handsome, but in his mind, for those willing to look, he was a far greater prize. The more he and Mr Segundus met, and the more they worked together, the more Mr Segundus began to realise quite how extraordinary Childermass was. For there were none now in England (or at least none whom Mr Segundus had met) who knew more about magic than Childermass. There were none who were as quick and as sharp in their thinking. And there were certainly none who were so faithful to those causes and to those people they held dear.

John Childermass was kind and knowledgeable and clever; more so than anyone else Mr Segundus knew.

When a man becomes thus attuned to his fellow, and when enough of that esteem has been reciprocated so that they may be called friends, then he may come to see this person in an entirely different light. Certainly, Mr Segundus still knew it to be a fact that Childermass' clothes were ragged, his face was twisted and his manners were impolite; but Mr Segundus had since discovered that there were many more things about Childermass' person to dwell upon than these alone.

For example: there was the dexterity of Childermass' long hands; there was the brightness of his dark, glittering eyes; and there was the way he had, when something amused him, of catching Mr Segundus' eye with a wry smile (and when he did so, how red and shining, sometimes, his lips!)

Oh yes. There was very much to desire about John Childermass. And the longer Mr Segundus knew him, the greater that desire became.

Thus we have discovered the reason for Mr Segundus' discomfort and guilty feelings. For, you see, his dream that night (of having carnal knowledge of Childermass) was no chance event, but was instead an expression of a deep longing that had daily been growing within him.

As the cold day passed, and Mr Segundus and Childermass conducted their research, and Vinculus, half-undressed, drank several more pots of chocolate, Mr Segundus' discomfort did not lessen any. Perhaps, even, it grew!

To be sure, he still felt guilty, and to be sure he also dreaded that such a dream might reoccur, but oh how confusing the rest of this thoughts alongside these! For dreams have the unfortunate habit of lingering on into the waking world, so that all the emotions they have stirred at night continue on into the day as if the events of the dream had truly taken place.

Throughout that day Mr Segundus could not help from feeling some of the happiness and playfulness that the dream had planted within him. Whenever he looked at Childermass he felt (alongside his guilt and anxiety) a confusing lightness of heart and swelling of joy, as if they really had, the both of them, shared some secret undertaking. It was almost difficult at times for Mr Segundus to realise that it had not come to pass, that Childermass had not rolled over in the bed, with a smile in his eyes, and said "Well now, Mr Segundus, how about it?" before laying his hands upon him.

Such thoughts only served to make Mr Segundus feel the more guilty when he caught himself dwelling upon them. And how easy it was to dwell upon them with Childermass so close all the while! To work upon Vinculus, Mr Segundus and Childermass had to be close together, almost shoulder-to-shoulder sometimes, to peer at the writing upon Vinculus' skin. How easy it was to notice, from that distance, the many desirable parts of Childermass' person: his wrists; his waist; the shape of a calf; the sleek curve of a thigh within his breeches!

Poor Mr Segundus had to remind himself again and again that the dream had not taken place, that Childermass had not given Mr Segundus leave to desire him so, and that neither of them were as familiar with each other's bodies as Mr Segundus' shameful mind proposed. (And here I must add that their activity, being the close examination of another man's bare skin, did not help Mr Segundus' thoughts either.)

Thankfully, if either Childermass or Vinculus noticed Mr Segundus' distraction they did not mention it. Perhaps, even, they put Mr Segundus' mood down to the cold, for it was growing colder and colder outside and the fire in the hearth was beginning to struggle to heat even their little drawing room. A few hours after noon the sun set and the house grew colder still. Unwilling to force Vinculus to remain unclothed for much longer, Mr Segundus called their research to an end for the day, and asked Mrs Bull if Mrs Hitchin might be able to deliver their dinner earlier than was usual.

Thus it was that dinner came and went, supper followed shortly afterwards, and the whole house prepared to go to bed.

Mr Segundus had prevailed upon Mrs Bull and Charles to allow him to ready himself for bed in his own room before setting off to join Childermass. Mrs Bull had protested that Mr Segundus would be cold and had reminded him of how very long the walk was between his room and Childermass' but Mr Segundus would not be swayed. He had told them that he did not wish to impose on Childermass' hospitality any more than was necessary. What he didn't say was how he longed to stall (if only for a few minutes) the moment when he must share Childermass' bed again, and how he rather hoped that the cold while he walked from his room to Childermass' in only his nightclothes would serve to drive all sinful thoughts from his body.

And so when Mr Segundus was in his nightclothes, had said his prayers (in which he had pleaded especial pardon for his unforgivable thoughts that day), and had directed Charles to ensure that Vinculus had as many blankets as he might wish for, Mr Segundus put on his dressing gown and his slippers, took up his candle, and left his bedroom for Childermass'.

The night was indeed colder than it had been the night before. Mr Segundus felt it especially so because he had not this time put his coat, breeches and stockings on over his nightclothes (as he knew that Childermass' bed was warm enough without them). This cold meant that Mr Segundus all but ran through the corridors until he reached the door to Childermass' bedroom. (And it seems that Mr Segundus' unwanted desires had indeed fled in the wake of that cold, for all he wished for at that moment was to be warm again.)

Upon Mr Segundus' hasty knocking at Childermass' door, Childermass opened it. He was dressed already in his nightshirt and nightcap and beckoned Mr Segundus inside.

Oh, how warm it was again! Stepping through the door, Mr Segundus was filled once more with gratitude. The fire in the hearth was high (for it had not yet been given time to go down) and the light from it danced across the bed-clothes. It seemed that Childermass had been in bed while he waited for Mr Segundus to arrive, for the blankets and the mattress looked just as rumpled and as welcoming as they had done the night before.

Mr Segundus wasted no time in taking off his dressing gown and slippers and sliding into that bed. Oh, blessed warmth upon his bare toes! How very glad Mr Segundus was that Childermass had warmed the bed with his body in addition to the warming pan.

"Thank you," said Mr Segundus. "Thank you again, Mr Childermass, for allowing me to sleep in your bed. It was very kind of you to offer." As he said this, Mr Segundus was busy putting out his candle and closing the bed-curtains upon his side of the bed, ready to sleep in that dear warmth.

Childermass, who had just climbed into bed also and was shutting the bed-curtains upon his side (leaving the bed dark, save for the faint light from the fire that filtered through the curtains) said, "You are welcome, Mr Segundus. But it is hardly a trouble; like Mrs Bull, I have no wish to see you grow ill from the cold."

"She did seem worried that I would feel the cold overly," admitted Mr Segundus. "It is very good of her to care for me so." He gave a self-deprecating smile. "She fears, you see, that I do not eat enough, even though I assure her that I do. It is merely that I have been as skinny as this for as long as I can remember; I am afraid it is in my nature." As Mr Segundus said this, he held out his thin hands and turned them over.

Childermass gave him a smile. "I would not worry about that, sir. No-one can avoid their nature." And with that Childermass lay down and rolled over so that his back was to Mr Segundus. "Goodnight, sir."

"Ah, yes," said Mr Segundus, lying down also. "Goodnight."

Thus Mr Segundus was left to the bliss of a warm bed shared with a warm body. Did he slide into slumber as easily as he had the previous night? I am afraid to say that he did not.

While it is true that as he had travelled through the cold corridors to Childermass' room Mr Segundus' only desire had been to climb into a warm and comfortable bed, this was not so now. For now Mr Segundus found that his conversation with Childermass (though it was ever so brief!) had, unfortunately, brought all his other desires rushing back to the fore.

Oh, the smile that Childermass had graced him with before Childermass had lain down to sleep! It was hazy in the weak light through the bed-curtains, to be sure, but how pleasant it had been! And what familiarity it held! Oh, to see Childermass smile at him so in bed, in his nightclothes, and so similar to Mr Segundus' dream the night before! Mr Segundus' heart leapt to see it.

Childermass was so close and in such a state of undress that it felt as if all of Mr Segundus' sinful desires were laid out before him. How very guilty Mr Segundus felt at that moment! He admonished himself heavily in his mind for his thoughts, for he was filled with dread at the idea of having another lurid dream and of waking up in another state of arousal. It felt all too probable a thing. And, oh! the shame if Childermass discovered it. The shame of Childermass' disgust. The shame of Childermass walking out of Starecross the very next day with Vinculus and never returning to such a vile place again. These events, to Mr Segundus' tired mind, felt almost like certainties.

Mr Segundus lay in agonies for what felt like hours. It sounded as if Childermass had fallen asleep long ago. "Do not think upon it," Mr Segundus told himself. "You must not think upon it." And so, still chastising himself heavily, Mr Segundus fell fitfully into sleep.

Thankfully it seems as though the stars that night were on Mr Segundus' side. He had no dreams, so far as he could tell, and when he woke in the darkness of the night, he felt no lust but only the heavy sense of peace that comes after a deep sleep.

Carefully, just to make certain, Mr Segundus reached down and was glad to confirm that his private parts were as limp and uninterested as if they did not exist at all.

For many minutes Mr Segundus lay there feeling grateful that he was granted this respite from his lust and his anxiety both. He was also feeling that perhaps he should have brought his stockings with him after all, for despite Childermass' presence the bed was not as warm as it had been when they had first gone to sleep.

From behind him, Mr Segundus felt a shift in the mattress followed by a brief tremble, as if Childermas were awake and were stretching out his limbs to their limits.

Mr Segundus turned over but he could no more see Childermass that he could see anything else. He drew his knees closer to his chest so that they might be warmer, rubbing one hand absently over his foot as he did so (and how cold it felt!)

"Are you awake, Mr Segundus?" came Childermass' voice, thick with sleep.

"Yes," said Mr Segundus. "But I haven't been for long. Did you sleep well, Mr Childermass?"

"Ay. And you?"

"Yes; I slept very deeply," said Mr Segundus. "Although... Do you feel it is colder now than it was last night? I rather wish I had brought my stockings with me."

Childermass yawned. "You may borrow a clean pair of mine if you wish."

Mr Segundus' breath caught a little at this unexpected kindness. "No," he said. "No, no. It is fine." Then he had a sudden thought. "Do you think Vinculus will be warm enough all alone?"

Childermass chuckled. "You heard him yesterday: he would rather sleep alone, even if it was as cold as the _devil's bollocks_."

"Yes," agreed Mr Segundus. "I suppose you are right." He rubbed his foot some more. "But if it continues on as cold tomorrow, I think we should leave Vinculus to his own devices for the day, rather than studying the writing upon him. It is not fair to make him undress in such weather."

Childermass was silent for some moments. "Very well," he conceded. "After all, the more uncomfortable Vinculus finds himself now, the less he will wish to co-operate in the future."

"I thought I might spend the day in the library," continued Mr Segundus. "Have you heard of Bolby's book?" He paused. "Well, I suppose you must have. You see, I was thinking about Bolby's ideas upon fairy languages and..."

Thus Mr Segundus and Childermass again fell to discussing their research. Just as it had the night before, their pleasant conversation came to an end but slowly as they each of them began to think more and to say less until they eventually both fell back asleep.

Mr Segundus found he was far less tormented in his descent into slumber than he had been earlier that night; for after his previous success, he was not anyway near as fearful of his dreams as he had been before. And, indeed, it turned out that he had no reason to fear his dreams at all; if he did have any dreams that night they were of the most mundane sort and not carnal in the slightest.

No, if anything bothered Mr Segundus as he slept, it was the cold. For it was far colder than it had been the night before. Thankfully, as the hours wore on this cold seemed to pass, so that soon Mr Segundus found the cold no longer woke him and he slept soundly.

When the morning came Mr Segundus woke to the sound of a fire crackling in the hearth (for the chambermaid had already been in to see to the room) and to the light from both the fire and the window seeping through the bed-curtains. As he woke he became immediately certain and grateful of the fact that he had had no shameful dreams in the night and that his body had remained asleep in all parts.

The other thing that Mr Segundus noticed was how much warmer it was now. This warmth must in part have been due to the fire, but it was also due to the heat of the sheets, especially that sheet under his right hand.

Mr Segundus opened his eyes further and discovered that this sheet was an odd shape: it was so very rumpled and crumpled that it did not lie flat against the mattress but instead rose almost like a wall of white in front of him. Mr Segundus stared at it some more, and was disconcerted to find that it lifted softly, and then fell, almost...

Almost as if it were not a sheet at all, but a linen nightshirt.

In panic, Mr Segundus looked about himself and realised that things were not at all as he had thought. No longer was Mr Segundus on his own side of the bed; instead he was on the other side of the bed, Childermass' side, and was curled tightly into a ball beside Childermass himself, with his forehead resting against Childermass' chest and his hand clutched in Childermass' shirt.

Oh no. Oh, dear me, no.

You see, so cold had Mr Segundus been that night, that in his sleep that he had sought whatever warmth he could. Finding a warm body in Childermass, the barely half-awake Mr Segundus had clung to it and had thereafter had a very comfortable slumber.

Unfortunately, all this panicked twisting and turning as Mr Segundus looked about himself now led to Childermass' waking up.

"Ah," came Childermass' muffled voice from the bolster. "You are awake, sir?"

Mr Segundus immediately sat up and retreated to his own side of the bed. "I am sorry!" he cried. "I am so sorry, Mr Childermass. You must know that I did not mean to steal all of your space. Oh, but how very uncomfortable it must have been for you! I see I am quite a terrible bed-mate; I apologise profusely (though I realise an apology is but little help)."

Childermass opened one eye, blearily. "Oh," he said, "that."

"I will quite understand if you do not wish to have me in your bed again," said Mr Segundus. "You must feel as tormented as Mrs Bull."

Childermass closed his eye again. Then he rolled onto his back, locked his hands together and stretched out his arms. The play of his shoulder-muscles as he did so was quite easy to discern beneath his nightshirt.

Mr Segundus looked away.

When Childermass was done he rolled back over into his side so that he might look up at Mr Segundus more fully. "You have no need to fear, Mr Segundus," said he. "I do not mean to throw you out of bed."

"Then if it happens again, you must wake me up so I might remove to my side of the bed again," declared Mr Segundus. "I will not be offended in the slightest."

Childermass' smile looked even more lopsided than normal, pressed as it was against the bolster. "That I will not do."

Mr Segundus frowned. "But why?"

"Because I am not offended either," returned Childermass. "It did not affect my sleep any, and it was clear that you were cold. If I could help you to sleep more comfortably then I am glad."

"But surely it would be far easier for you to sleep if I gave you the space in which to do it," protested Mr Segundus.

Childermass smiled some more. "Do you not consider, though, Mr Segundus, that perhaps I might have felt the cold a little too? It was rather pleasant, all-in-all, that just when I was beginning to fancy I was cold, I had another person draw close to me to keep me warm. Indeed, I had half-thought that you had done so on purpose to make me comfortable, considerate as you are."

"Oh." Mr Segundus looked at him in confusion. "You are sure you did not mind?"

Childermass sat up, took off his nightcap and used his hands to shake out his hair. "I did not mind," he confirmed.

"Well then," said Mr Segundus, feeling rather relieved. "Well then." He looked about himself. "In that case, I suppose I should go back to my room and get dressed."

Childermass opened the bed-curtains on his side of the bed. "The offer still stands," said he, "if you wanted to borrow some clean stockings to walk back in; to save you from being cold."

And that was more thoughtfulness than Mr Segundus could bear, especially when joined with Childermass' sleep-rumpled appearance. Any more of that and Mr Segundus felt he was at risk of doing something dangerous, like taking up Childermass' hand and kissing it.

"Thank you, but no," declared Mr Segundus, with more determination than he felt, "I shall be fine." Then he got out of bed, dressed himself in his slippers and dressing gown, and went in search of peaceful solitude.


	3. Chapter 3

As Mr Segundus dressed that morning, the room around him appeared, slowly, to grow darker. The cause of this, Mr Segundus discovered as he drew back the window-curtains and huffed upon the windowpanes to remove the frost, was a great sheet of clouds that had covered the sky. Indeed, the cloud cover was so thick that it appeared to perfectly match the snow-covered ground beneath it (save for the fact that the snow was white, while the clouds were a dreary grey). What a bleak sight it was to look out upon!

Just as he had done the day before, Mr Segundus joined Childermass and Vinculus in the little drawing room for breakfast. The room here appeared just as gloomy as Mr Segundus' bedroom. Once again, there was a fire in the hearth but, though it did its utmost, it did not give out as much heat as might be desired, and Mr Segundus found himself curling his hands around his teacup to warm them.

"How did you sleep last night, Vinculus?" asked Mr Segundus. "Were you warm enough?"

Vinculus looked up warily from his plate and pronounced, "Thank you, sir, but I won't have it." He snorted. "You shan't be persuading me to share with Childermass again. Not for anything. I have told you: I want my solitude."

Mr Segundus shook his head. "I understand, Vinculus. Please, do not fear on that account. But were you warm enough? Is there anything we might do to make you warmer?"

"Allowing me to keep my clothes on for the whole day would be a start!" declared Vinculus.

Mr Segundus blushed. "You are right," admitted he. "You are very right. And you may rest assured that Mr Childermass and I will not ask to study your writing today; it is far too cold." Mr Segundus curled his hands around his teacup some more. "Were you so very uncomfortable yesterday? I must apologise. It was insensitive of us."

Childermass let out a bark of laughter and gestured at Vinculus with his butter-knife. "He was fine. Do you not remember, Mr Segundus, that time yesterday when he started snoring as we worked upon his arm? There was not a goosebump upon him, so close to the fire was he."

Mr Segundus looked from Childermass to Vinculus and then back again. "Even so," said Mr Segundus, turning to Vinculus, "we shall not study you today, Vinculus. Mr Childermass and I have already planned to work in the library."

At this point the walls of the little drawing room rattled as a gust of wind buffeted the building, and the room grew even darker. All three of them turned to the window (though this was so covered with frost that it was difficult to see much of anything through it).

"It's going to snow again," said Childermass. "Very soon."

"Yes," agreed Mr Segundus. "I think it would be wise to..."

"Do you know what you may do for me, sir?" asked Vinculus, looking to Mr Segundus. "To help me keep warm; for it is so very cold."

"To help you sleep?" asked Mr Segundus.

"Ay," said Vinculus. "That too." He took a bite of his bread and swallowed. "Something warming to drink, sir. Something warming to drink would serve me very well."

"Do you not drink enough at dinner?" asked Childermass pointedly.

Vinculus snorted. "Something warming to take to bed, sir," said he, still addressing Mr Segundus. "A little something. I am so very cold all alone."

Mr Segundus glanced briefly at Childermass, but nodded. "That is no trouble," agreed Mr Segundus. "I'm sure something can be arranged."

At this point the clouds outside the window had grown so heavy and dark that it almost felt like dusk. Indeed, it was only a few moments more before Mrs Bull, the housekeeper, entered the room and began to light the candles.

"Forgive me, Mr Segundus," said she as she went about her work. "But I very much hope you are not thinking of going to church today." (You see, it was a Sunday, and it was quite normal upon a Sunday for the whole household to make its way to the church in the village, there to attend the service. Even Childermass and Vinculus joined them upon occasion.)

"No," Mr Segundus assured her. "You need not worry, Mrs Bull. I was just about to suggest that we do not attend church this week. Especially as it is like to snow at any moment, and the snow on the ground is so thick already."

Mrs Bull turned to the candles upon the dresser. "I am glad, sir. For, as you know, if you were to brave the weather then most of the staff would feel as if they must follow you."

Mr Segundus nodded. "And how did you sleep, Mrs Bull? I hope Mrs Hitchin did not keep you awake too much."

Mrs Bull turned to him. "Oh, Mr Segundus," said she, as if she were confiding a secret. "Mrs Hitchin does snore so, but it was so cold last night that I was more than happy to bear it. If it gets even colder, her snoring may even become pleasant!"

Mr Segundus smiled. "Then all is well. But you must tell me if it becomes too much trouble." It was at this moment that Mr Segundus remembered their other sleeping arrangements. "Mrs Bull," said he, "will you see to it that Vinculus is given something warming to drink to see him through the night? He is the only one of us sleeping alone and so will feel the cold more than anyone."

"A proper drink, Mrs Bull," clarified Vinculus with a grin, leaning an elbow upon the table. "Perhaps a bottle of Madeira wine. That would suit very well."

Childermass scoffed, though Vinculus paid him no heed.

Mrs Bull's eyes went very wide. She looked from Vinculus to Mr Segundus. "The Madeira wine, Mr Segundus! Oh, but that is being kept for the students! I know we do not have any students here now, but they will be back soon enough. And what will they say if they do not have enough Madeira wine to drink?"

"Or maybe some sherry?" suggested Vinculus, now leaning both elbows upon the table. "Very warming is sherry."

Mrs Bull's eyes grew wider. "The sherry, Mr Segundus! But we need that for Christmas, and we have so little as it is! Begging your pardon, Mr Segundus, but how might we celebrate Christmas without the sherry? Oh, I do not know what we would do."

"Then perhaps..." started Vinculus.

"How about some porter, Mrs Bull?" suggested Mr Segundus. "I find porter always makes me warm, and it is very restorative too. We have plenty of porter, do we not?"

For a moment it looked as if Mrs Bull would complain again, but she did not. "Ay, sir." She curtseyed. "We do have plenty of porter." She gave Vinculus a sceptical look. "I shall fetch up a bottle or two, ready for tonight."

Vinculus, rather than appearing disappointed at being reduced from sherry to porter, in fact looked to be rather pleased with himself. "Much obliged," said he.

Mrs Bull gave him another sceptical look, before curtseying again to Mr Segundus and to Childermass and leaving the room.

"Perhaps, Mr Segundus," said Vinculus. "You might see to it that Mrs Bull fetches up three bottles of porter. It is like to be very cold, after all."

Mr Segundus hesitated, for he had seen the look upon Childermass' face (which suggested that Childermass did not think Vinculus required any porter at all).

"Ah," said Vinculus sadly, peering over at the window. "And I believe it is beginning snow." (Indeed it was, as they saw when they went over to the window and brushed the frost from the glass: the snow was coming down in thick, heavy flakes, which were travelling as much sideways as downwards due to the wind.)

"Very well," agreed Mr Segundus (and he continued to look out at the garden as he did so, for he did not wish to see what Childermass' expression might be). "I shall ask Mrs Bull for three bottles of porter."

From beside him, Vinculus gave a happy chuckle.

After breakfast, Vinculus left the little drawing room and wandered off to wherever it was he took himself at times like these. (Sometimes, on past occasions when they had not required Vinculus' presence, Mr Segundus had found Vinculus stretched out in a chair beside the fire in the kitchen, but at other times Vinculus seemed almost to find some way to disappear entirely until it was time for dinner.)

As he had said he would, Mr Segundus repaired to the library, where he was joined by Childermass. The fire had been lit in the library's large hearth, but the room was long (and for the most part had only bare boards for a floor), which meant that the fire had not yet had a chance to warm the place very much. Thus, Mr Segundus and Childermass took up one of the solid, wooden tables and carried it over to the fire, so that they might sit directly beside its heat. (This moving of furniture was not so very difficult, yet Mr Segundus still found himself later reprimanded by Mrs Bull for not asking two of the servants to help with the business.)

Once the table was in position, Mr Segundus wandered about the bookshelves and pulled out those books he thought he might need for his research and deposited them on the table (his aim being to pre-empt all his needs for books, so that he might not have to leave the fireside once he was settled). When everything was as it should be, Mr Segundus sat down at one end of the table and set to work.

What work was this that Mr Segundus meant to pursue? Why, as he had told Childermass in the night, he intended this day to look into Bolby's book. And what, indeed, you ask, was Bolby's book? Well, Francis Bolby was a rich yeoman farmer from the fourteenth century. He was not necessarily a magician, you must understand, but he had nonetheless chanced to make the acquaintance of a fairy by the name of Bill Whiskers. (There are several accounts as to how Bolby and Whiskers first met, though all of them are apocryphal, so I shan't waste your time by relating them here.)

Being rich, and having many labourers to work his land for him, Bolby was left with much time to follow his great passion, which happened to be the learning of languages. He was very proud to have mastered Latin, Greek, Flemish, French, Spanish and Gaelic. Thus it was that when Bolby came upon Whiskers, he did not question him about matters of magic (as any self-respecting magician would have done) but instead asked him very much about the languages of fairies (of which there were many).

Bolby was known to posterity because he had written down all he had learnt about languages (both Christian and Fairy) into a book. This book was passed to Durham Cathedral, where it was copied by the scribes there, and by the fifteenth century these copies of Bolby's book had been passed to many other places, including to the cathedrals at York, Hereford and Ely. And yet, as is always the way, no matter how many copies of magical books there may have been in the fifteenth century, these were invariably lost, sold or destroyed over time, until, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, there were very few about. Indeed, only one copy of Bolby's book was known to survive, and that, Childermass had told Mr Segundus during their discussion in the night, was lost in Hurtfew Abbey with Mr Norrell.

However, Bolby's book wasn't lost in its entirety, for while it had still been extant in England several linguists and magicians had consulted it and had written their own books about it, and then these books too had been studied and consulted and further works produced. All this meant that while Mr Segundus was not able to consult Bolby's book itself, he did have in his library several books and articles _about_ Bolby's book. These books and articles were the ones that Mr Segundus now surrounded himself with upon that table beside the fire. There he set about going through them to see if they contained any clue as to the language and the script that the message upon Vinculus' body might be written in.

Childermass did not join Mr Segundus in his research upon Bolby. Indeed, Mr Segundus was not entirely sure what research it was that Childermass had embarked upon. Despite bringing over a chair for himself and depositing papers and pens and books upon the table by the fire, Childermass did not spend much time sitting down. Instead Childermass wandered the length of the library, looking at bookshelves, flipping through books and frowning to himself. Once he had done this for some time, and had collected quite a little pile of books upon the table, he then picked up several of those books and papers and left the library altogether.

It was an hour or maybe more before Childermass returned, and when he did so he was frowning more than he had been before. (His hair was also rather messy, as if he had run his hands through it a great deal in thought.)

Mr Segundus was at that moment drinking a cup of coffee. He asked Childermass if he would like one.

Childermass was once again perusing the bookshelves. "No, thank you," said he, and that was all Mr Segundus had out of him before Childermass pulled out several more books and left the room for a second time.

The rest of the day passed much in the same vein, with Vinculus off wherever it was he was, and Childermass off with his books wherever it was _he_ was, and Mr Segundus left mostly alone in the library. Mr Segundus did not much mind this. His research, while not necessarily fruitful, was nevertheless engaging (even more so because he at one point became distracted for several hours by a theory about the languages spoken by fairies employed on trading ships, which was not at all related to the writing upon Vinculus, but was very interesting). Indeed, so taken was Mr Segundus with this research that he found the hour for dinner came upon him quite unexpectedly.

Dinner that day was a rather quiet affair, for Mr Segundus had brought a book with him to read as he ate (which he knew was terrible manners, but he had embarked upon so interesting a line of thought that he could not bear to leave it; besides which, it seemed that Childermass did not mind, for he had done the very same thing). After dinner both Mr Segundus and Childermass returned to their respective researches, leaving Vinculus alone in the little drawing room with the remains of the dinner, including (to Vinculus' apparent delight) an almost-full jug of beer.

By the time supper came around, Mr Segundus and Childermass found Vinculus sitting beside the fire in the little drawing room looking very pleased with himself. And when Mrs Bull arrived with his three bottles of porter, Vinculus appeared yet more pleased still. It was not long before, having eaten his fill of supper, Vinculus clutched all three bottles to his chest (along with the mug with which to drink them) and wove his way out of the room and through the corridors to bed.

Childermass, for the most part, ignored Vinculus, and shortly afterwards declared that he would go to bed also. Mr Segundus agreed, saying that he would join him soon.

Was it not odd that supper was so hasty and short? Bless me, no; it was not odd at all! For, you see, it was so cold and dark that evening that not anyone wished to stay up longer than they had to. We have seen how it had been snowing that morning, and I must tell you that this snow continued on in fits and starts throughout the rest of the day. The clouds were thick and low, covering most of the light from the sun (and all of the light from the moon once night had fallen), and they breathed their white, heavy flakes upon the ground. But this was not all! For the snow was accompanied by a dreadful, icy wind, which buffeted and battered the house and seemed to howl its way through all the little chinks and cracks it could find (these being many, with Starecross Hall so old as it was).

Sitting in that drawing room, with the candlelight feeble and the windowpanes rocked by chill gusts of wind, it is no wonder that all three of Vinculus, Childermass and Mr Segundus wished to retire to bed as early as possible.

As he had done the night before, Mr Segundus readied himself for bed in his own room, dressing in his night-clothes and saying his prayers. However, not all was entirely the same, for Mr Segundus remembered how cold he had been the night before, even in Childermass' bed, and so he now put on a pair of stockings to sleep in (for he knew he would not be able to stand it if Childermass offered him a pair of his own again).

Have you ever worn stockings with no breeches or garters to keep them up? It is not an easy thing, for they will forever be falling down and gathering around one's ankles. Yet Mr Segundus did not mind this, as he knew that he would not have any such problems once he was in bed and lying down (besides which, the thought of putting on garters or even a pair of breeches to sleep in seemed an uncomfortable prospect).

And so, ready and dressed for bed (nightcap on, dressing gown over his nightshirt, stockings gathering at the tops of his slippers, and candle in hand) Mr Segundus set out for Childermass' room.

I am glad to say that this night Mr Segundus felt hardly any of the anxiety that he had felt the night before. He was now able to accept that his lewd dream had been but a lone occurrence. To be sure, he was aware that he was not the most accommodating of bed-mates, given that he had seemed so set upon stealing all of Childermass' space in the bed the previous night, but as Childermass had not seemed to mind this, Mr Segundus did not let it worry him unduly.

Just as had happened on the past two nights, upon reaching Childermass' room, Mr Segundus knocked on the door and Childermass let him inside. And as before, the room, all small and close, with its panelled walls and jolly fire, was as welcoming as Mr Segundus could wish for. Not to mention the bed, which was once again all rumpled and tumbled and soft, for Childermass had been lying in it while he waited for Mr Segundus to arrive.

The wind shook the windowpanes as Mr Segundus made his way into the room, and he wasted no time in taking off his slippers, blowing out his candle, and climbing into bed (but, knowing how cold it was like to get when he was asleep, Mr Segundus this time left his stockings and his dressing gown on).

Yet, as comfortable as the bed was (and it was comfortable), it was still rather early in the evening for sleep. Not anyone had had much desire to talk after supper with the drawing room so cold, but now that Mr Segundus found himself in a warm bed with Childermass for company, he realised there was very much he would like to discuss. Thus it was that as Mr Segundus was shutting the bed-curtains upon his side of the bed (and Childermass was doing the same upon _his_ side of the bed, leaving them in semi-darkness), Mr Segundus said, "Mr Childermass, may I ask what it was that you were engaged in researching today? For you seemed rather busy. Were you too looking into fairy languages?"

Childermass lay down in the bed. "No." He gave Mr Segundus one of those smiles that always seemed the softer with the light as dim as it was. "Something quite different: I have been looking for a spell for warmth."

"Oh," said Mr Segundus, feeling rather foolish that he had not once thought to do the same. He lay down also. "That is a very good idea, Mr Childermass; very good."

"I thought so." And Childermass' smile turned into a grin. "For the sooner it warms up, the sooner we may work upon Vinculus again."

"Ah," said Mr Segundus. "Oh, yes; of course. And did you have any success with your search? Did you find a spell that would work?"

Here, Childermass' grin faded. "Not quite," he admitted. "You see, I know there is such a thing as a spell for warmth, for I have seen Mr Norrell perform it many times. (He is a man who feels the cold very much.) Yet he never deigned to teach the spell to me. I had fancied, from my memory of his performing it, that it was based on Pevensey with some few adjustments, but I have not been able to find any similar spell, no matter how many books upon Pevensey I looked through." Childermass folded his arms on top of the blankets and looked up at the bed's canopy. "And so I took myself off to see if I might try to perform the spell myself from memory." He graced Mr Segundus with a grimace. "I was not very successful."

Mr Segundus thought about this (how interesting a subject it was!) and he asked Childermass all sorts of questions. What were the compositions of the spells he had tried himself? What had Mr Norrell done when performing the spell? Was a pair of compasses and a map involved? Mr Segundus felt quite sure that a pair of compasses and a map might have been involved. (Not to mention many other questions of a similar nature.)

They discussed this together for some time, though with little success. Therefore, to change the subject, Childermass then asked Mr Segundus about _his_ researches that day, which led Mr Segundus to telling Childermass all he had read about Bolby, including the interesting diversion about fairies upon merchant ships (which appeared to intrigue Childermass a great deal).

Eventually, after they had done very much talking (and after Mr Segundus had declared his intention of helping Childermass look for a spell for warmth the next day, "For as interesting as Bolby is, Mr Childermass, our need for a spell for warmth is far more urgent") Mr Segundus and Childermass both reached the conclusion that it was now growing rather late and that they really ought to go to sleep.

Mr Segundus settled down more comfortably against the bolster. "Well then," said he, closing his eyes. "Goodnight, Mr Childermass."

Childermass' response to this was, however, oddly silent: there was no answering "Goodnight", nor was there any rustle of blankets as Childermass readied himself for slumber.

This was so curious that Mr Segundus opened his eyes again. On doing so he discovered that Childermass had indeed made no move to go to sleep; instead he was watching Mr Segundus with an amused grin upon his face.

"Come now, Mr Segundus," said Childermass by way of an explanation when their eyes met. "Do you mean to sleep over there?"

Mr Segundus looked about himself. He was on his side of the bed so far as he could tell. "I am sorry, Mr Childermass," said he. "Am I still taking up your space? I shall remove myself farther." And he pushed himself away from Childermass as he said so.

Childermass chuckled. "I do not mean that you are too close, sir. I mean that you are too far."

Mr Segundus looked about himself some more.

Childermass laughed again. "Do you not wish to come closer? It will be cold if you are over there."

Mr Segundus felt himself blushing, and was glad that the light was as dim as it was. "After making you uncomfortable last night, Mr Childermass, I did not want to risk drawing so close again."

"Did I not say," returned Childermass, "that I did not mind? And that, in fact, I was rather more comfortable for the warmth you brought?"

"You did," admitted Mr Segundus, hesitantly.

"Well, there we are," said Childermass. "Will it not be easier, then, if you come over here to go to sleep? Given how cold it is, I am quite sure we shall draw closer to each other in the night; so why not start as warm as we end up?"

Mr Segundus blushed again at the (very true) insinuation that he was unable to remain on his own side of the bed whilst asleep. He was just in the process of wondering if it really was sensible to move closer to Childermass (for, despite his misgivings, a good part of Mr Segundus fancied that it would indeed be pleasant to go to sleep so warm, especially as the bed was still rather chilly, even though they had now lain in it a good while) when another gust of cold wind broke against the house, jostling the windowpanes as it did so.

Oh, it was so very cold a night! Mr Segundus was aware that sometimes he worried too much about accepting kindnesses from others, and he fancied that this was probably one of those times.

Thus Mr Segundus made up his mind. "You truly do not mind if I lie close to you?" he asked.

"I would welcome it," said Childermass, and he held up the blankets beside him so that Mr Segundus might draw closer.

Mr Segundus did so (and how much warmer it was beside Childermass!) "Thank you, Mr Childermass. It is kind of you."

"And it is kind of you, also," returned Childermass.

The next few moments were spent in finding some way to settle down to sleep that might be comfortable for the both of them. Mr Segundus did not wish to take so many liberties as he had done the night before, for while sharing warmth is one thing, almost smothering someone by burrowing into their chest, and then clinging onto their nightshirt so that they may not even escape either, were not the most thoughtful of actions. Therefore, Mr Segundus turned so that he was lying with his back to Childermass. Childermass, it seems, did the same, for after some shifting, Mr Segundus felt Childermass' back and shoulders press against his own.

How very warm Childermass was! Mr Segundus could feel the heat of him through Childermass' nightshirt. Indeed, it was so warm that Mr Segundus fancied he wouldn't need his dressing gown after all, and so (apologising to Childermass for disturbing him), Mr Segundus removed his dressing gown and threw it out through the bed-curtains and onto the bedroom floor.

If anything, Childermass' body felt even warmer now there were only two linen nightshirts separating them. It was, all in all, very comfortable. Mr Segundus could feel Childermass' chest rising and falling with his breathing, which was growing slower and slower the longer they lay there. In fact, it was impossible for Mr Segundus not to begin breathing at the same slow pace.

How warm and pleasant and restful it was, bundled up there next to Childermass in Childermass' small, warm room, underneath Childermass' thick, heavy blankets. And the smell of Childermass' body lay all about them, which was just as pleasant and restful: a comforting, musky smell that spoke of skin and warm limbs.

It is no surprise that Mr Segundus fell asleep almost immediately.

Did Mr Segundus dream that night? Not at first. Initially, Mr Segundus' sleep was deep and heavy; though this heavy sleep was broken several times (albeit briefly) by particularly loud gusts of wind. In one of these periods of wakefulness, Mr Segundus noticed that he was no longer sleeping back-to-back with Childermass, but that he had turned and, like the night before, was now burrowed into Childermass' chest. He could feel one of Childermass' arms lying heavily upon his shoulder.

"I should turn around again," thought Mr Segundus, blearily. "It is not kind of me to cling onto Childermass so." But almost as soon as Mr Segundus thought this, he fell back asleep, curling closer to Childermass in the process.

It was later on that Mr Segundus dreamt, though he did not remember so much of what he dreamt about. All he knew was that certain events in the dream had conspired so that he found he must walk up a tall staircase. Yet the task was not so easy as it had at first seemed, for the staircase was so very tall, and the stairs were so very uneven and crooked, and Mr Segundus' limbs did not seem to want to co-operate at all. How very frustrating it was! It was just has he had started using his hands as well as his feet, scrambling up and up, that a particularly heavy bout of wind blew against the windowpanes and woke him up.

The frustration from the dream took some moments to clear, but as soon as it did, Mr Segundus realised something very disturbing.

His private piece was, once again, hard.

And Mr Segundus knew this for a fact instantly because he could feel that, lying curled up against Childermass as he was, said private piece happened to be pressing warmly against some part or other of Childermass' person.

Yet this was not all. It seems that Childermass was also awake and, what was more, was aware of the situation (had perhaps been aware of the situation for some time) and had noticed the way that Mr Segundus now jolted in panic. For Childermass' chest rose and he said, quite calmly, "There is nothing to feel ashamed about, Mr Segundus."

Oh, how those words had exactly the opposite effect than was their intention!

Mr Segundus flooded instantly with guilt, and he scrabbled back as far away from Childermass as he could get without falling out of the bed altogether.

Oh, how hot was Mr Segundus face! How clammy were his palms! How his heart raced in uncomfortable staccato! He wished he was anywhere but where he was right at that moment. (Needless to say, the hardness of Mr Segundus private piece did not last long under this onslaught. But it did not matter; the damage had already been done.)

Mr Segundus could barely utter a sound, so mortified was he; the words stuck in his throat. "I am so sorry, Mr Childermass!" he gasped out. "I am so sorry! I am so... Oh!" And he felt very glad that it was fully dark and that Childermass could not see how, in awful shame, Mr Segundus had pressed his face into the bolster.

"It is fine," said Childermass (and it sounded as if he were making his voice quite deliberately gentle). "Did I not say there is nothing to be ashamed about? It is quite normal for a man to grow hard when he is asleep; it is quite normal."

"Oh!" groaned Mr Segundus again, and it took a few moments before he found it within himself to lift his face from the bolster. "But that does not mean that you would wish to have it forced upon you, Mr Childermass! Oh, what have I done?" Mr Segundus' hands were trembling. "I see I am not fit to share a bed with anyone. But you should not worry, Mr Childermass; I shall return to my room and leave you in peace. I am so sorry for disturbing your sleep in this way. I am so sorry." He rolled over and sat up.

"I am not disturbed," said Childermass. "I am not offended. It is fine. You need not go anywhere."

"Yes; well, that is kind," said Mr Segundus, pulling his legs out from beneath the blankets. "You are always so very kind; I am sorry I repay you so terribly." He adjusted his stockings, then reached out blindly towards the bed-curtains. "It is best that I go."

"Mr Segundus." Childermass' voice was losing some of its calmness. "I have said you need not go anywhere. It is cold. Will you really sleep in your own room when your bed has not been heated at all?"

"Well, if it is uncomfortable, then I deserve it to be so," returned Mr Segundus emphatically. Finding the opening in the bed-curtains at last, he tugged them apart.

"Mr Segundus," said Childermass, sounding exasperated, "I will not have you make yourself cold needlessly. No offense has been caused. No harm has been done."

"I am so very sorry," is all Mr Segundus could say in return. He swung his feet onto the floor (and how very cold it was, even in his stockings!)

"Wait, Mr Segundus," said Childermass, his voice suddenly closer and his hand suddenly close also, fumbling until it clutched Mr Segundus' arm in a tight grip.

Mr Segundus gasped at the touch. "No!" he cried in panic. "No! I am sorry, Mr Childermass, but you do not understand! I cannot stay! I cannot!"

It was only in the terrible silence that followed that Mr Segundus realised what it was he had just said.

Childermass' grip upon Mr Segundus' arm loosened but he did not remove his hand completely (and how warm it was against the cold of the floor!) Nor did Childermass say anything in response, but it felt as if his question were hanging between them nonetheless. It loomed, unspoken: "Why can you not stay?"

Mr Segundus maintained his own silence, too horrified to speak; at least at first. But he felt that unspoken question grow heavier and heavier upon him until it was quite unbearable.

Did not Childermass deserve an answer after how cruelly he had been treated? Mr Segundus took a shaky breath. Surely Childermass did.

Childermass' hand twitched upon Mr Segundus' arm.

With a trembling sigh, Mr Segundus hung his head. His face was burning. "I am a sinful man," he explained, feeling as if the whole world recoiled from him as he did so.

Childermass was quiet.

"If you knew, Mr Childermass, you would not ask me to stay in your bed." Mr Segundus curled his stockinged toes against the floor, wishing above anything for a release from this situation; but he was unable to halt it now it had started. "You would not wish to associate with me at all."

Childermass' hand fell from Mr Segundus' arm, and something at the back of Mr Segundus' throat began to hurt very much at this loss of contact.

The silence continued on for several awful moments more before Childermass said, carefully, "You mean that you have desires towards men."

"Ah," said Mr Segundus, too unhappy to be truly surprised. "You knew?"

"I guessed," replied Childermass.

Mr Segundus took a breath, though it sounded more like a sob in his ears. "And that is why I cannot stay in your bed, Mr Childermass; you see? Indeed, it was wrong of me to take to your bed in the first place. If you wish to leave Starecross tomorrow, I will quite understand. I shall speak to Mrs Bull in the morning."

At this proclamation, Childermass did something quite unexpected: he laughed (albeit quietly). "You think Vinculus and I would wish to go traipsing around the moors in this weather?"

Mr Segundus' face burned more furiously than ever before. "Of course," said Mr Segundus. "No. That was foolish of me. But thankfully Starecross is a large place. It will be quite easy for me to keep out of your way, and then you may leave whenever is convenient to you (be it in a few days or a few weeks)." He twisted his fingers in the blankets at his sides. "I only ask that you do not make my confession known. You may wish to of course; and it is your right to do so. Only, I beg of you: this school is all that I have, and if my patroness were to find out then I should be turned out of doors and left with nowhere to go." Mr Segundus sighed as he stared morosely out into the darkness. "But it is, I suppose, no more than I deserve."

Once again Childermass' fingers touched Mr Segundus' arm. Mr Segundus felt as if he should have been startled at the contact, but he had not the energy; it was as if all his purpose had seeped out of him.

"Vinculus and I will not be going anywhere," said Childermass, softly. "I have no desire to make your confession known, Mr Segundus. I have no desire to stop my association with you."

Mr Segundus looked towards Childermass, but could not see him at all.

"I have no desire," said Childermass, "for you to go to your room and make yourself cold for no reason."

Mr Segundus frowned. "Mr Childermass, you..."

"Do you really believe," said Childermass, and there was now something of a smile in his voice, "that you are the only sinful man, Mr Segundus? Because I can tell you that you are not." He huffed. "There are many of us who are sinful men."

Mr Segundus took a breath. Childermass' hand fell from his arm again.

"You are not the only man to have desires towards other men," said Childermass very carefully. "You are not the only man."

Mr Segundus took a breath even deeper than the last. Oh. Oh my. Could it really be? "Then," said Mr Segundus tentatively, "Mr Childermass, you mean that you... ?"

A chuckle rose from Childermass in the darkness. "Ay," he confirmed. "So you see: I can well understand, Mr Segundus. You need not fear; I can well understand."

"Oh," said Mr Segundus, sagging with what felt very much like relief.

"Now will you come back to bed, sir?" said Childermass. "I am not offended in the slightest. It is normal for a man to grow hard while he sleeps. I have told you: it is quite normal."

Mr Segundus' hands were shaking again, though whether that was from exhaustion or from the chill of the air he could not tell. "You will not mind, Mr Childermass?"

"I will not mind," came the reply. "I would mind it much more if you went off to another room and made yourself cold."

"Ah," said Mr Segundus. He clenched and unclenched his hands, and curled and uncurled his toes, hesitating in an agony of indecision. Finally, it was the sound of another gust of wind rattling the windowpanes that made up his mind. "Well. If you are certain that you are not offended." Mr Segundus cleared his throat and tentatively slipped his feet back under the blankets. How much warmer it was! Stifling a shiver at the feeling, Mr Segundus grew yet bolder still and soon he had climbed so far beneath the warm blankets that he was once more lying in the bed with his head upon the bolster.

"Thank you," said Mr Segundus after several long moments, when he had finally found it within himself to speak again. "Thank you. You are so very considerate and kind, Mr Childermass. Very much so."

Childermass laughed quietly. "Now, there aren't many who would say that."

"Then they are wrong," returned Mr Segundus. "I do not deserve such kindness." He wiggled his stockinged toes, revelling in the warmth upon them. Outside, the wind rattled the windowpanes again.

It was this that presented Mr Segundus with a thought. The result of said thought was that, once again, Mr Segundus swung his legs out of bed (oh, cruel cold!) and reached down with an arm to grope upon the floor.

"Mr Segundus," came Childermass' voice, now sounding rather tired, "please don't tell me you are having second thoughts."

"No, no," said Mr Segundus, as his hand finally lit upon the object it sought, which was his discarded dressing gown. "I mean to stay in your bed, Mr Childermass. It is merely that I would like to wear my dressing gown to stave off the cold." In saying so, he pulled the dressing gown up onto the bed and closed the bed-curtains behind him. Then, trying to be as hasty as possible so as not to disturb Childermass too much more, Mr Segundus tugged the dressing gown on over his nightshirt (cold! how cold the dressing gown was after lying on the floor!) and then climbed once more beneath the blankets and lay down.

As Mr Segundus occupied himself with this task, Childermass, sounding rather curious, asked, "It is really so cold for you when you are lying directly beside me? For, I must say, I did not feel the cold at all myself."

"Oh," said Mr Segundus, pausing as he settled his head upon the bolster. "No; I was not cold. Forgive me, Mr Childermass. I was quite warm enough when beside you, thank you." He curled in on himself, hunching up his shoulders (as the dressing gown had not yet heated up against the warmth of the blankets). "But of course you will not wish to have me so close any more, Mr Childermass. I shall keep to my own side of the bed; you need not worry."

Childermass gave out a sigh. "I do not mind," said he. "I have said, Mr Segundus, that what happened was normal and that I am not offended. Do you not wish to draw closer and so be warmer? I am quite happy for you to do so."

Mr Segundus felt his face flush at the very thought of it. "Thank you," said he, "and that is indeed kind, but it is not necessary. Now that I have my dressing gown, I shall be quite warm enough over here by myself." He drew up his knees, wrapping his arms around them.

"You are certain?" asked Childermass.

"I am certain," confirmed Mr Segundus.

Childermass sighed again, and there was a noise as if he were turning over in the bed. "Very well, then," said Childermass. "Good night, Mr Segundus. Sleep well."

"You also," said Mr Segundus. "And thank you for being so considerate, Mr Childermass. Good night."

This was followed by another huff of breath from Childermass and a rustling of the blankets, as if he had just shrugged his shoulders.

And so, after this exchange, they both of them settled down to sleep.

Yet, as Mr Segundus lay there, sleep did not come easily to him; for, as you might imagine, there were ever so many thoughts running through his mind. There was the shame and the embarrassment at everything that had passed, of course (as, no matter how understanding Childermass might be, Mr Segundus felt sure that he would not be free from the guilt of this night for a good long time). There was also gratitude: a great, weary relief and thankfulness that Childermass had seen fit to treat him so kindly. But above all, and growing greater by the minute, there was a keen sense of curiosity, the cause of which was Childermass' revelation.

Imagine what it must have been like for Mr Segundus, who had long struggled against his unfortunate desires, to discover that he was not alone in this misfortune! Mr Segundus' greatest fear had ever been that his carnal longing for men would be discovered, and yet when, finally, Childermass had been presented with this knowledge, not only had Childermass refused to judge Mr Segundus, Childermass had confessed to feeling those very same longings!

Childermass understood. There was something so very surprising and comforting about that fact. Childermass understood.

Of course, surely Childermass did not quite understand everything that Mr Segundus was feeling. How could he? It was clear as anything that Childermass was not so troubled by their sharing a bed together as was Mr Segundus. Why, on two occasions now Mr Segundus had been plagued by the treachery of his own body and the physical manifestation of his lust for Childermass, but not ever had Childermass shown any similar discomfort. Even now, Mr Segundus lay thinking about Childermass, while Childermass lay happily asleep (if his slow, even breathing was anything to go by).

No; Childermass might understand what it was like to desire men, but he surely did not understand what it was to be quite so weak and sinful as Mr Segundus. It was clear to Mr Segundus that Childermass had a strength of character that Mr Segundus just did not possess. Childermass was not so troubled, nor did he feel so guilty about his desires, because he had the strength to overcome them; while Mr Segundus, weak as he was, did not have the ability to do the same. Not only this, but it was clear that Childermass had not fallen into the folly of desiring a colleague so close as Mr Segundus.

When one has objectionable desires for men, it is wise to keep those desires at arm's length, which was surely what Childermass was able to do. It is not in any way wise to lust after anyone so close as Childermass and Mr Segundus were to each other. Why, when Childermass visited Starecross, he and Mr Segundus worked together side-by-side for great lengths of time, and they shared some of that trust and intimacy that comes from such prolonged contact. Not only was it foolish for Mr Segundus to desire one so close, it was tantamount to betrayal to take Childermass' trust and twist it into such a deformed, carnal longing.

Childermass, on the other hand, had the moral strength to avoid lusting after Mr Segundus. He was able to treat their friendship as it truly was, without sullying it in any way. Not, of course, that this would be a hardship for Childermass, for not only was he strong and morally upright (as we have heard), but Mr Segundus was sure that he himself did not pose much of a temptation, being but small and scrawny and old, with greying hair and dull, quiet ways.

These thoughts led Mr Segundus to wonder just which men Childermass did find desirable. Handsome men, no doubt, or bold and dashing. Perhaps someone beautiful like Stephen Black, if Childermass had ever chanced to meet him. Or maybe someone talented and amiable like Jonathan Strange. Oh yes; Mr Segundus could well imagine that Childermass found much to desire in a man like Jonathan Strange.

Thus it was that Mr Segundus lay there and attempted to quell his feelings of embarrassment by instead running through his mind all the desirable men that he had known in his life and trying them against Childermass, to consider if Childermass would desire them also or no. It was while engaged in this absorbing occupation that Mr Segundus eventually, and wearily, fell asleep.

You will be glad to hear that Mr Segundus suffered from neither disconcerting dreams nor unwanted bodily reactions during the rest of the night. He did not even draw close to the warmth of Childermass in his sleep (for, even though it was cold, Mr Segundus found himself waking at intervals to ensure that he was as far removed from Childermass in the bed as was possible. "I must not lie close to Mr Childermass," Mr Segundus told himself during every moment of lucidity. "I must not. I must not.")

When the morning came, Mr Segundus awoke to the feel of the blankets shifting as Childermass rose to sit up beside him. Opening his eyes further, Mr Segundus discovered, thankfully, that he was very much on his own side of the bed and huddled up in his dressing gown. He rolled over and, following Childermass' lead, sat up also.

Childermass, who was in the process of removing his nightcap, yawned. "Good morning, Mr Segundus. Did you sleep well?"

"Oh, yes; thank you," said Mr Segundus (though, in truth, his sleep had been a rather fitful one).

Childermass tossed his nightcap to one side and peered at Mr Segundus out of the corner of one eye. "You weren't cold over there?"

"No no." Mr Segundus wrapped his dressing gown around himself more tightly. "I was warm enough, bundled up as I was." (Though this was also far from the truth.)

"Then I am glad," said Childermass, "for it continues on cold this morning, do you not think?" He turned and drew the bed-curtains. "Hark at the wind; it hasn't lessened any."

Mr Segundus agreed and continued on their conversation about the weather, flooding with relief at the realisation that Childermass appeared to have no wish to discuss either the revelations of the night, or the shameful actions of Mr Segundus' private parts. "Perhaps," considered Mr Segundus with some surprise, "Mr Childermass was truly not offended, as he had said." And the thankfulness that rushed through Mr Segundus at that thought was very great.

What a momentous thing! Childermass had first suffered Mr Segundus' coarse actions and had then heard Mr Segundus confess to the very depths of his depravity, but Childermass had passed no judgement upon Mr Segundus for either.

And why?

Because Childermass understood.

_Childermass understood._


	4. Chapter 4

As Mr Segundus took his toilet that morning, he felt immensely glad that he had been given warm water in his pitcher with which to wash his face and to shave, for not only was it a cold day, but he had not had a particularly warm night either (at least for the latter half of it). Outside, the wind continued on fierce, rattling the windowpanes and howling down the chimney.

Nevertheless Mr Segundus did the best he could to focus upon the weather and the cold, as these thoughts were far more agreeable to him than his reflections upon the events of the night itself. Oh, to be sure, Mr Segundus was very much thankful for the understanding that Childermass had shown him. And, yes, Mr Segundus was glad that in Childermass he had unexpectedly found a kindred spirit. But Mr Segundus couldn't help himself from _also_ feeling a great deal of embarrassment when he remembered why that particular conversation had come about.

It seemed almost as if in every other moment while Mr Segundus dressed, he found himself thinking back to his body's shameful actions. He put on a clean shirt and remembered the feeling of waking up in Childermass' arms. He fastened the buttons of his breeches and remembered discovering that his private piece was hard and pressing wilfully against Childermass' person. And, oh, heavens above! he shaved in his looking glass and remembered the discovery that Childermass was aware of all these things.

To imagine what Childermass had thought in that moment!

On several occasions throughout his toilet Mr Segundus found himself cringing outwardly, hunching up his shoulders and shaking his head, and once opening his mouth with all the intention of making an apology (though to whom, he did not know, for the room was empty). But perhaps this was all for the best, for there is nothing like the pinch of embarrassment to sharpen up one's resolve. It was this resolve, and the noise of the howling wind, that made up Mr Segundus' mind as to how he planned to occupy himself that day.

Before one can think of any kind of daily occupation, however, breakfast must come first, and Mr Segundus was quite determined that he would set upon this meal as if nothing whatsoever had happened in the night between he and Childermass and that all was normal.

"After all," thought Mr Segundus, "I have apologised for my actions and I must remember that Mr Childermass has accepted my apology; there is no need to open healing wounds and bring the subject up again. The important matter is only that, despite my behaviour last night, Mr Childermass is willing still to treat me as a colleague; and for that I am very thankful."

Yet, when Mr Segundus came down to the little drawing room for breakfast, feeling that heady mixture of embarrassment and resolve both, he found that things were not as normal as he had hoped they would to be.

Oh, do not look to me like that! I do not mean to say that breakfast that day contained talk of anything untoward, or indeed talk of anything _at all_ in relation to the night's events. What I mean to say is that when Mr Segundus arrived in that little drawing room, he found Childermass sat at the breakfast table, and Childermass only: Vinculus was nowhere to be seen.

So absent was Vinculus that Mr Segundus and Childermass eventually gave up on waiting for him and proceeded upon eating their breakfast by themselves. This was not quite what Mr Segundus had wished for, as he had been hoping that Vinculus' presence would ease any discomfort that may have been lingering as a result of the night's events.

Thankfully, it seems that Mr Segundus need not have worried, for there was that morning no discomfort to be found between he and Childermass. And, indeed, have you not found this at times yourself? No matter how much one worries about a person when one is alone, it is quite difficult to worry about them when they are present, for one finds that suddenly there isn't the time to do so. Meaning: Mr Segundus and Childermass fell so quickly into an engaging conversation that on several occasions Mr Segundus forgot that he was meant to be feeling embarrassed at all.

What did they talk about? Well, Childermass began by mentioning his plans that day to continue upon his search for a spell for warmth, which led Mr Segundus to declare his plans also, viz. that he would like to help Childermass in this search. (Of course, Mr Segundus neglected to mention that his desire to help came not only from thoughts of the cold and the comfort of the occupants of Starecross Hall, but also from a very selfish desire to be able to sleep once again in his own room and so avoid the risk of forcing his lust upon Childermass for a second time.) This then led them to discussing just how they might pursue their research, which lively conversation carried them through to the meal's end.

When Mr Segundus and Childermass were drinking the last of their coffee (intending imminently to depart for the library), they found themselves suddenly interrupted by the arrival of another: it was Vinculus.

Mr Segundus wished Vinculus a good morning. Vinculus peered, blearily, at him in return.

Childermass remarked upon the lateness of the hour. Vinculus sat down heavily at the table and put his head in his hands with a groan.

"Well now," started Childermass. "I would think..."

"Perhaps," said Vinculus, talking over Childermass as if he had not spoken at all, "Mr Segundus, you might be so kind as to call for a bottle of porter. I would be much obliged."

Childermass regarded Vinculus with folded arms. "And it wasn't porter that put you in this state in the first place?"

"I would be much obliged," repeated Vinculus to Mr Segundus. "Just a little porter. It would clear my head no end would a little sip of porter."

Childermass snorted and, ignoring Vinculus' words as much as Vinculus had ignored his, rang the bell to ask the parlourmaid to furnish Vinculus with strong coffee and fried eggs.

Vinculus groaned further.

"The sooner we find a spell for warmth, Mr Segundus," said Childermass, standing from the table, "the sooner we may have Vinculus make himself useful again."

Vinculus groaned again and laid his head upon the tabletop.

Mr Segundus watched as Childermass left the room, and Mr Segundus would have made to leave also, but just as he rose from the table, Vinculus turned to him. (Or rather, Vinculus angled his head in Mr Segundus' direction without deigning to raise it an inch from the table.)

Vinculus opened a bloodshot eye. "Looking for a spell for warmth, are you?"

"Ah. Yes." Mr Segundus tried to give Vinculus an encouraging smile. "It will be good to have some warmth at so cold a time; do you not think? For not only will it allow us to continue on with our work, as Mr Childermass says, but it will make it easier for us all to sleep at night." Mr Segundus paused. "Were you much troubled by the cold last night, Vinculus? Did, ah... Did you sleep well?"

"Like death itself," was the reply. "Unfortunately," continued Vinculus with an unhappy sigh, "the morning feels like death also."

What does one say in response to that? Mr Segundus made some remark about being sorry that Vinculus felt unwell and hoping that he recovered soon, and Mr Segundus was just heading over to the door when Vinculus stopped him once more.

"Just a little sip of porter," said Vinculus, raising his head (with apparent difficulty). "Just a little, sir, if you'd be so kind."

Mr Segundus hesitated. "Forgive me, Vinculus, but I'm not sure that's wise."

Vinculus sighed again. "But I shall still have my three bottles of porter this evening, will I not, Mr Segundus?" He met Mr Segundus' eye with a pitiful stare. "It would be so very cold without my three bottles of porter."

"I, hm. I'm not sure that is wise either," said Mr Segundus, as gently as he could. "Surely you would not want to feel this way again tomorrow morning?"

"Ah," said Vinculus sadly.

Mr Segundus flushed, feeling rather cruel. "Please do not worry," said he. "For Mr Childermass and I will surely find a spell for warmth today, and then we shall all be warm enough to sleep comfortably in our own beds tonight." Mr Segundus then took the opportunity to flee the room before Vinculus could bestow any more unhappy glances upon him.

When Mr Segundus arrived in the library he found Childermass selecting books from the shelves. Upon the table beside the fire there already stood a small pile of books as well as a map, a pair of compasses, a candle, a ball of string and, in short, all the things that one might need for the conducting of a spell.

"There you are," said Childermass when he spied Mr Segundus. "Will you help me fetch down some books?" Childermass then proceeded to list the books he wanted, which Mr Segundus went and pulled from the shelves on the other side of the room.

When all was done, and a now large pile of books was gathered upon the table, Childermass suggested that they leave the library. "For," said he, "it will do us no good to search for a spell for warmth in a room with a fire. The colder the room, the easier it will be for us to tell if the spell has worked."

Mr Segundus could well understand the logic in this (even though he did not much desire to leave the fireside) and so he and Childermass took themselves and their books and their magical objects off to the room that Childermass had used the day before for his attempting of the spell. This was a small, unused place which may once have been a bedroom but now contained no bed, only several chairs of various ages and degrees of comfort, and (for reasons lost to the mists of time) a large and ancient portrait of a young girl with a monkey upon her shoulder.

Childermass set down his books (some upon a chair and the rest, for the chair was a small one, upon the floor) and gestured for Mr Segundus to do the same. Then Childermass took up the map, which he opened out and lay upon the floor, and the pair of compasses. He looked to Mr Segundus. "Now, Mr Segundus," said Childermass. "As we agreed, you must be most vigilant. If you see that I do something wrong when performing the spell, you must tell me of it."

Thus they occupied the next few hours. Childermass performed the spell for warmth (or rather, he performed what he thought may have been the spell for warmth) many times, while Mr Segundus sat and watched and made observations as to ways the spell might be improved. Unfortunately, no matter how many times Childermass performed the spell and no matter how many improvements Mr Segundus suggested, the spell refused to make the room any warmer.

A lack of success will grow tiresome after a while, and so now Mr Segundus took it upon himself to perform the spell several times, while Childermass watched and offered criticisms. Then once more they switched places, with Childermass performing their refined spell and Mr Segundus again observing. By the end of this work they found themselves with a spell that had been polished to the very peak of perfection. Or rather, the spell was perfect in all ways save one: it did not work.

Childermass sat down in one of the chairs and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "It seems to me," said he in a defeated manner, "that perhaps the spell Norrell used was not based upon Pevensey after all."

Mr Segundus agreed, looking to the books spread out between them. He picked one of them up and, rather clumsily, flicked through it. "Might the spell have been based upon the work of..." He struggled to remember the name. "... ah... Martin Pale instead? Perhaps we would do well to look into Martin Pale." Mr Segundus looked up then to find that Childermass did not seem to be attending to what he said at all. Instead, Childermass was looking to the book in Mr Segundus' hands.

"Your hands are shaking," said Childermass.

Mr Segundus glanced down at his hands and realised that this was indeed the case. Carefully, he put the book down and rubbed his hands together. "I apologise, Mr Childermass," said he. "It is just that I am a little... chilled." Which observation was perhaps something of an understatement, for Mr Segundus was quickly discovering that he felt very cold indeed and was shivering all over.

Working in a cold room on a cold day (with the wind howling outside and the snow clouds blocking out the sunlight for long intervals) is not a comfortable business, especially not if one must sit still for periods of time. As Mr Segundus and Childermass had worked, Mr Segundus had felt a chill creep over him, settling in through his clothes and seeping down to the very core of his person. However, Mr Segundus had been so engrossed in their work upon the spell that he had not much noticed how truly uncomfortable he was; until, that is, Childermass had happened to remark upon it, at which point Mr Segundus realised the full extent of his discomfort, with his limbs aching and every part of him cold and trembling.

Mr Segundus rubbed his hands together some more. "I think," said he, "perhaps, that if I were to fetch a... a blanket and..."

Childermass, however, stopped this line of thought by walking over to Mr Segundus and taking up one of Mr Segundus' hands to press it between his own. "Your fingers are ice, sir," declared Childermass, frowning.

How very warm were Childermass' hands! The feeling of that warmth was so pleasant that Mr Segundus found he could not talk, for he was too busy enjoying the sensation. How Childermass was able to retain such warmth in his hands, Mr Segundus did not know. Oh, if only Childermass would continue to hold Mr Segundus' hand and never let go! (Though, of course, it would be difficult for either of them to attempt to perform any spells in such a position.)

With a huff of breath Childermass released Mr Segundus' hand to the icy air once more (oh, cruel parting!) then stooped down and picked up an armful of books. "Come, Mr Segundus," said he. "If we must resort to books before we can attempt the spell again, we can do that as well beside the fire in the library as we can in here."

"Oh. Ah. Yes," agreed Mr Segundus, feeling very grateful for this suggestion, and wondering that he had not thought of it himself. He scrabbled to pick up the rest of the books, finding the fingers of one of his hands stiff and uncooperative with the cold, and the fingers of the other hand tingling distractingly from the warmth Childermass had imparted upon them. Several of the books fell back to the floor as Mr Segundus picked them up, but it was a measure of how cold and distracted he was that he accepted these books as lost to the moment and, instead of attempting to return them to the pile in his arms, merely followed Childermass from the room.

In the library, Childermass urged Mr Segundus into a chair at their table beside the fire; then Childermass rang the bell and asked for a pot of chocolate to be brought to them, along with a blanket for Mr Segundus. These things soon arrived, being carried by Mrs Bull the housekeeper, who fretted and tutted at Mr Segundus' having grown so cold, and who refused to leave until she saw to it that Mr Segundus was wrapped up in the blanket with a cup of the chocolate in his hands. (I might add that while Mrs Bull was about this business she happened to throw some rather disapproving looks in the direction of Childermass, as if she thought him entirely responsible for Mr Segundus' current discomfort. Though, if Childermass noticed these looks, he did not respond to them.)

And what was Mr Segundus doing while all this was occurring? Was he merely sitting silently beside the fire? Why, yes! He was, in fact, doing precisely that. Normally Mr Segundus would not have enjoyed being the centre of so much fussing, you must understand; normally he would have protested to Mrs Bull that he was feeling quite fine and that she need not trouble herself so much on his account. But perhaps Mr Segundus was feeling rather more cold than he had realised, for he found himself submitting to everything quite placidly.

It was only when Mr Segundus had been sitting in his blanket for quite some time, and had drunk down his cup of chocolate, that he began to remember where he was and what he was about. The first thought that came to him with any clarity was the memory of the warmth of Childermass' hands and the smooth press of Childermass' fingers. If seemed to Mr Segundus almost as if Childermass must have done some magic to make his hands so warm in a room that had been so cold. But then, Childermass always did seem to be unduly warm, and Mr Segundus found himself thinking back fondly to the hot press of Childermass' skin through the linen of his nightshirt as they had lain back-to-back the night before.

Mr Segundus now turned his head to the man in question. Childermass, he discovered, was sitting on the other side of the table with a book open in front of him; he had a pen in one hand and was using it to make notes upon a piece of paper.

"Ah," thought Mr Segundus. "He must be looking into Martin Pale to see if we might find a spell for warmth among his work." And it was this that finally reminded Mr Segundus what it was that he was supposed to be doing.

"Oh," said Mr Segundus out loud. He reached out and put his chocolate cup back down in its saucer. "I am sorry, Mr Childermass. You have started upon our research, and here I have been, staring into the fire and neglecting to help you at all."

Childermass looked up, with one side of his mouth curling in a smile. "Ah," said he. "You have warmed up, have you?"

Mr Segundus flushed. "Mostly; yes," he agreed. "Thank you for calling for the chocolate and the blanket. You have been so very industrious and I have been no help at all." Mr Segundus thought some more and felt himself flushing further. "Not to mention," he admitted, "I believe I left some books behind us when we left for the library."

Childermass' smile widened. "You need not worry about those. Here." Childermass took a book from a pile beside his elbow and handed it to Mr Segundus. "If you want to help, you can make a start by looking through this. I have been noting down anything that looks even slightly as if it might be related to a spell for warmth."

Mr Segundus took the proffered book. "Oh, yes. I shall do. Of course." Setting the book on the table in front of him, Mr Segundus made an effort to focus his thoughts. Then he reached across, took up a pen, a pot of ink and some paper, and settled down to read.

Did Mr Segundus have any success with his reading and his research? I wish I could say that he did; but, no, he did not. Oh, to be sure, he read through the first page or so of his book with no difficulty; however, it was not long after this that Mr Segundus' concentration began to wander. Why, instead of reading, Mr Segundus started thinking back to the warmth of Childermass: to his warm hands, and to his warm nightshirt; to a heavy arm lying against Mr Segundus' shoulder as they slept. Indeed, Mr Segundus found himself dwelling upon his gratitude that such a warm person was willing to share a bed with him, even after all that had happened.

This led, naturally, to Mr Segundus thinking back to the events of the night before. As we have seen, when Mr Segundus had thought of these things earlier in the day, they had been accompanied by a pang of embarrassment. But now it seemed that all embarrassment had gone. Perhaps it was because, after having been so cold, Mr Segundus had no energy left for embarrassment; or perhaps it was merely because his work with Childermass that day had proceeded upon so normal a footing that Mr Segundus felt he no longer needed to worry about Childermass' being offended.

Either way, with no thoughts being taken up by embarrassment, it was far easier for Mr Segundus to dwell upon the curiosity he felt at Childermass' revelation. How fortuitous it was that Childermass too suffered from the same desires for men that plagued Mr Segundus! How wonderful that Mr Segundus need not justify himself, and need not fear judgement! And how much of an inspiration was Childermass in his moral strength and his ability to ignore and suppress his desires?

Yet, could there be someone out there who tested Childermass' strength? Could it truly be that if faced with the right person, Childermass would feel as tortured and as guilty as did Mr Segundus?

Thus, as he had done in bed, Mr Segundus once more found himself running through his mind all the desirable men he had known and wondering if Childermass would desire them also. This list, however, was soon exhausted, for Mr Segundus found that he stood by most of the conclusions he had made in the night, and had nothing more to add to the matter.

Oh, but perhaps the list was too short! For had not Mr Segundus only tried Childermass against those men that Mr Segundus himself desired? But who was to say that Childermass would desire exactly the same men as Mr Segundus?

"Everyone has different tastes," mused Mr Segundus to himself. "Why must I assume that Mr Childermass shares mine?" Thus Mr Segundus fell to trying Childermass against all those men that Mr Segundus had never desired (and there were very many of those).

This task was rather more difficult, for Mr Segundus found it hard to put aside his own prejudices to see people instead through Childermass' eyes. "Oh no," Mr Segundus would think. "Not Mr Feltham" (this was a relatively new member of the York Society of Magicians) "he is far too brash and proud. He doesn't listen to what anybody else has to say and..." But then Mr Segundus would stop and force himself to see the man in another light. "Oh, but if I were Mr Childermass then perhaps I might not find him so rude and intimidating. Not if I had the ability, as Mr Childermass does, to stand up for myself a little better. Why, perhaps Mr Childermass would very much enjoy having such brisk and provoking discussions! And does not Mr Feltham have a good chin? Even I must admit that there is a little handsomeness to Mr Feltham's chin." For a while, Mr Segundus would be happy with this decision, until he remembered, "Ah, but there was that time when Mr Feltham shouted at old Mr Bourne. I cannot believe that Mr Childermass would desire anyone who would act quite so rudely as to shout at old Mr Bourne."

And so Mr Segundus continued, considering men and discarding many. After a while, Mr Segundus remembered the book in front of him. He read it further and scribbled a few notes upon his piece of paper, feeling rather guilty at his lack of concentration. "Even in this," thought he, "Mr Childermass shows strength and determination, while I am weak to every whim that comes across me."

Mr Segundus then used the excuse of drinking the last of his chocolate (for he had poured himself another cup) to glance up at Childermass and motivate himself to work harder through Childermass' example. As expected, Childermass was the very picture of applied concentration: he had pushed one hand into his hair and was reading his book with such an intensity of focus that it felt as if the roof could have fallen in at that moment and he would not have noticed. Mr Segundus smiled to see it.

Was there anyone as determined as was Childermass at that moment? It was clear he would have given all he had to find a spell to warm the household. How good he was to think of the comfort of everyone! Oh, but that was not his only reason, of course. Mr Segundus found himself remembering how eager Childermass was to return to his work studying the writing upon Vinculus' skin; Childermass was ever devoted to that task.

A thought entered Mr Segundus' mind then, which was so startling in its clarity that Mr Segundus found he had to stop watching Childermass lest he betray it to the world. Oh, but it made so much sense! What had Childermass made his _raison d'être_? Why, to study the writing upon Vinculus' body. And did he not pursue this during almost every waking hour? Did he not travel with Vinculus everywhere? Did not his work require his spending large amounts of time staring at Vinculus' naked person?

Did not Vinculus mention that Childermass took pains for them to share a bed whenever they stayed at an inn?

Oh my. There was no way it could not be true.

Which man had Mr Segundus not yet considered as a possible recipient of Childermass' desire? Which man did Mr Segundus not desire himself, yet when he thought about it, it was easy to see that Childermass could desire this man so?

Vinculus. It was Vinculus. If there was one man in all the world who could inspire Childermass to lustful thoughts, it was Vinculus.

Mr Segundus felt a surge of pride at this discovery, but he also felt that sense of brotherhood and pity which comes from recognising one's own struggles in another. For perhaps Childermass was indeed filled with all those particular longings and guilty feelings that Mr Segundus fought so hard to repress inside himself. When Mr Segundus worked close to Childermass and found himself in the strong grip of desire for Childermass' person, why, at the same time Childermass was probably yoked with those very same desires for Vinculus!

The question that next posed itself to Mr Segundus was obvious: was Vinculus aware of this? Indeed, did Vinculus feel the same way? Perhaps Childermass did not repress his desires so much as Mr Segundus had first thought: when Childermass and Vinculus shared a bed, did they succumb to those carnal temptations? What guilt was hiding within Childermass' breast?

This was all so very interesting that Mr Segundus was only able to work upon his book in fits and starts, and soon he found that he was being called to dinner without him having completed half of the reading he would have liked to have done. Yet Mr Segundus was glad that the dinner hour had come, for now he might observe Childermass and Vinculus together and so see if their actions towards each other betrayed their feelings.

Upon sitting down to dinner, the first thing that Mr Segundus noticed was that Vinculus appeared to be a lot brighter than he had been at breakfast. Mr Segundus commented upon this fact, saying that he was glad that Vinculus seemed well again.

Vinculus gave him a complacent grin. "A seat in a warm kitchen, sir, and the pickings thereof, will do wonders for a man." He huffed. "Though Mrs Bull would give me only tea to drink."

"Ay," said Childermass, "and a sound decision that was on her part." He looked to Mr Segundus. "We should ensure, Mr Segundus, that we drink our fair share of the beer with dinner, otherwise we shall once again find him drunk as a lord by suppertime."

Vinculus glared. "It was hardly my fault," he pronounced, "if yesterday you did not wish to drink the beer yourself. Somebody has to drink it, after all."

To this, Childermass merely sighed and began to talk to Mr Segundus about the reading he had been doing upon Martin Pale.

I am sorry to say that Mr Segundus made only half-hearted attempts at continuing on this conversation with Childermass, for he was too busy conducting his observation of Childermass and Vinculus together (who both appeared to be doing their best to ignore each other).

To be sure, they were rather quarrelsome with each other (and when Mr Segundus thought about it, he fancied that he always remembered them being quarrelsome with each other) but could this perhaps be a front to hide finer feelings? Or perhaps the quarrelling was a result of their finer feelings? Had not Mr Segundus thought earlier that Childermass would enjoy brisk and provoking discussions?

It was at this moment that Vinculus interrupted their conversation. "Do I hear rightly," said he, chewing upon a forkful of mutton, "that you have not, in fact, found a spell for warmth at all?"

Mr Segundus found himself guiltily remembering his promise to Vinculus that morning. "Ah," said Mr Segundus hesitantly. "Not quite yet."

Vinculus fixed upon Mr Segundus a very sorrowful look (while still chewing). "A spell for warmth, you said, sir," muttered Vinculus. He swallowed. "We'll all sleep comfortably tonight, you said."

"Ah," said Mr Segundus again. He looked to Childermass, who was watching them both. "Perhaps," said Mr Segundus, "I will head down after dinner and ask Mrs Bull to bring up some porter to help you to sleep, Vinculus."

This resulted in a wide grin from Vinculus, who filled his mouth with another forkful of mutton. Childermass, meanwhile, looked rather less happy at the announcement.

"But," amended Mr Segundus, looking warily to Childermass, "I shall ask her for two bottles only tonight. For I am sure you would not like to feel so bad tomorrow morning, Vinculus, as you did today."

Vinculus, sensing rightly that this amendment had been prompted by Childermass, gifted that man with a glare. Childermass met it steadily.

If this was desire, thought Mr Segundus, it was certainly an odd way of expressing it. (Where were the flushed cheeks and happy smiles and furtive glances?) But then, did not Childermass and Vinculus rather stray from the norm in all that they did?

However, desire or no, the tension was a little too much for Mr Segundus to bear, and so he distracted Childermass by starting to talk about _his_ research that day (even though he had not managed to read anywhere near the same amount as had Childermass).

Once dinner was over (and the remaining beer duly drunk in equal parts by all three of them), Mr Segundus made good upon his word and went downstairs to talk to Mrs Bull about the porter. Then he returned to the library, where he found Childermass.

"Ah, Mr Segundus," said Childermass, "will you join me? I would like for us to try this other spell that I have found." He nodded at the chair where Mr Segundus had been sitting, which still contained the blanket that Mr Segundus had wrapped around himself. "But do bring your blanket with you."

Thus Childermass and Mr Segundus once more returned to that cold room with its chairs and its ancient portrait of a girl with a monkey. (If anything, the room was even colder now than before, for night had since fallen and they only had one candle with them to break through the gloom.) Here it was that Childermass performed his new spell. Unfortunately, this spell worked just as well as had the previous one (meaning it didn't work at all). Mr Segundus made some suggestions for improvements and Childermass performed the spell again, with, I am sorry to say, an equal lack of success.

Childermass sighed. "Perhaps I was being too hopeful to think it would work so soon." He looked to Mr Segundus. "Come, sir. We shan't stay here too long. Let us return to the library."

This they did, with Mr Segundus also carrying all those books that he had left on the floor earlier in the day

In the remaining time before supper, Mr Segundus and Childermass once more took to their reading. Mr Segundus found it rather more easy to concentrate now that his stomach was full with a good dinner and now that he had recently seen a spell performed, which gave him much to ponder, but he still sometimes found himself thinking back to his earlier observations.

Did Childermass desire Vinculus? Well, that still seemed very likely (to see how earnestly Childermass set upon his research into a spell for warmth!) Did Vinculus also desire Childermass? Ah. Upon that point Mr Segundus was less certain.

Supper soon came and supper soon went. While they were eating, Childermass and Vinculus appeared to be just as quarrelsome as they ever were (which left Mr Segundus none the wiser as to their feelings for each other). However, Vinculus brightened considerably when he was brought his two bottles of porter. These he took, along with two further rounds of toast, and headed off to enjoy them in his bedroom.

Childermass watched him go, but if there was a flicker of any emotion in Childermass' eyes, Mr Segundus did not have the skill to see it.

This particular night was just as cold as had been the night before. It was not long, therefore, before Childermass rose, declaring that he would like to talk to Mr Segundus about his research into Martin Pale that evening, but that (if Mr Segundus were willing) it would be much more pleasant to conduct their conversation in the warmth of the bed. To this suggestion, Mr Segundus readily agreed.

With some time to himself while he dressed for bed, Mr Segundus found himself thinking once more about Childermass and Vinculus, especially with regard to their actions at supper. From Vinculus' behaviour, Mr Segundus was beginning to fancy that Vinculus did not return Childermass' desire after all (besides which, had not Mr Segundus once heard Childermass remark that Vinculus was married?) This only made Mr Segundus feel more understanding and more pity for Childermass.

Clearly Childermass took what opportunities he could to share beds with Vinculus but, oh, what a sorrowful lot was Childermass'! Night after night he must lie next to the man he desired, all the while knowing that his desire would never be returned. Perhaps it was a good thing, to be truthful, as it meant that Childermass would not be tempted to indulge in any sinful actions, but was it any wonder that Childermass sometimes felt quarrelsome with Vinculus? Mr Segundus could well imagine all the difficulties that their sharing a bed could breed for Childermass: the uncomfortable longings, the fear of discovery, and the painful repression of every feeling.

Still, perhaps the situation need not continue to be so truly sorrowful for Childermass. For now Childermass knew that Mr Segundus was one who also felt carnal desires for men. Now, if Childermass ever wished to discuss his woes, surely he must know that he may unburden his heart to Mr Segundus without any fear of judgement. After all, Mr Segundus found it very comforting to know that Childermass understood his struggle; it must therefore be comforting for Childermass to know the same.

It was in this positive frame of mind that Mr Segundus said his prayers and then set out (in his nightshirt, dressing gown and stockings) for Childermass' room. As he did so he prepared in his mind all the kind and understanding words he might say if Childermass happened to broach the subject.

Yet, when Mr Segundus knocked upon Childermass' door and Childermass opened it, Childermass did not appear woeful at all. Indeed, he instead seemed rather happy to see Mr Segundus so that they might start their discussions again. (Here, Mr Segundus reminded himself that even though _he_ had recently discovered Childermass' feelings for Vinculus, Childermass had lived with them for a long while and so presumably had no reason to dwell on them this day as much as had Mr Segundus.)

As always, Childermass' room appeared warm and jolly, with its bright fire, the bedclothes all rumpled, and the comforting smell of Childermass in the air.

Mr Segundus climbed into bed, putting out his candle and closing the bed-curtains. He did, however, make one concession to the previous night, which was that he kept his dressing gown on, as he did not wish to sleep close to Childermass again. ("For as much as I understand Childermass' own desires now," said Mr Segundus to himself, "I still do not want to force my own desires and the lustful reactions of my private parts upon him.")

Childermass closed the bed-curtains upon his side also; then, in the semi-darkness that fell, he sat back against the headboard and folded his arms. "Now then, Mr Segundus," said he. "I did not ask you too much at the time, for I did not wish us to stay overlong in that cold room, but what did you think of my performance of that last spell? You must tell me all; do not be afraid to point out any errors I may have made."

Mr Segundus followed Childermass' example and sat back against the headboard (though Mr Segundus also tugged the blankets up to his chin as he did so). Then Mr Segundus proceeded to answer Childermass' query, and they spent a long time discussing all the different parts of the spell and the effects any changes may have wrought upon it. After this they fell to discussing Martin Pale more generally, as well as other magicians that they might look to for a spell for warmth.

This conversation lasted for so long that soon the both of them were yawning and agreeing that it was high time they went to sleep. As they lay down in the bed, Mr Segundus did as he had intended to do and kept to his own side of the mattress.

"You mean to sleep over there, then?" asked Childermass, looking at him. "You may draw closer if you wish it. I will not mind"

Mr Segundus shook his head. "Thank you, Mr Childermass, but no. I have my dressing gown and my stockings." (These Mr Segundus was still wearing.) "I was quite warm enough with them last night, so I shall be warm enough tonight."

Childermass yawned again. "Very well," said he. "Goodnight, Mr Segundus." And he turned over and made to go to sleep.

"Good night," said Mr Segundus in return, tugging his dressing gown more tightly around himself.

As you well know, Mr Segundus had not been comfortable at all the night before, for it was cold to lie so far from Childermass, but in this matter Mr Segundus was quite resolved. Besides which, it was still early in the night, the fire was still high, and Mr Segundus was still yet warm enough by himself that he fell asleep fairly easily.

Fires, however, will go out, and the one in Childermass' room did just this after a time. This event resulted in Mr Segundus' waking up several times, and each time feeling rather colder than he had been before. But no matter how cold he felt, Mr Segundus made sure to stay upon his own side of the bed. Indeed, he slept so close to the edge of the bed that he nearly fell out of it on more than one occasion.

After several hours of this fitful slumber, Mr Segundus once more woke up, feeling now as if he were more awake than otherwise. Presumably it was the middle of the night and Mr Segundus had finished his first sleep, although the feeling of wakefulness may also have come from the fact that Mr Segundus' bladder appeared to be making itself known to him.

Mr Segundus frowned rather unhappily at this realisation (as, I imagine, do all who realise that they must climb out of bed into a cold room in order to make water). With some difficulty (for Mr Segundus refused to light a candle, which would result in waking Childermass) Mr Segundus fumbled his way out through the bed-curtains and then, kneeling on the floor, groped blindly beneath the bed until he felt the cold, porcelain handle of the chamber pot.

His prize thus at hand, Mr Segundus pulled the chamber pot towards himself and, still kneeling (so that he could be sure his aim was true), made water into it. By the time Mr Segundus had finished, he was shivering from the cold. Hastily, he pushed the chamber pot back beneath the bed and fumbled back through the bed-curtains and into the bed (which was blissfully warm in comparison to the rest of the room).

It was as Mr Segundus was climbing beneath the warmth of the blankets and reaching down to adjust his stockings, that he heard a deep breath from Childermass beside him, followed by another.

The blankets shifted, as if Childermass had just rolled over. "You are awake, Mr Segundus?" mumbled he.

"Yes," replied Mr Segundus softly. "I woke you; I am sorry. Go back to sleep, Mr Childermass."

"There is no need." Childermass yawned, and there was a great shifting in the mattress, as if he were stretching out his arms and legs. "I am quite awake."

Childermass then enquired if Mr Segundus had slept well. Mr Segundus replied that he had (an untruthful answer). Mr Segundus returned the question, to which Childermass, yawning again, replied that he had slept very well indeed.

These pleasantries concluded, they both of them returned to the conversation they had been engaged in before they had fallen asleep; that is to say, they began once more to discuss their search for a spell for warmth. This conversation lasted for some time, but not for too long, as they soon found that without further recourse to the books in the library, or to any further attempts at the spell, there was not much more they could conjecture about the subject. There then followed an amount of peaceful silence.

During this silence, Mr Segundus found himself once more thinking of Childermass' strong desire for a spell for warmth, and all because Childermass wished to study Vinculus' body further. What was more, Mr Segundus also found himself feeling all that sympathy he had discovered for Childermass' position. In that moment Mr Segundus very much wanted Childermass to know that, if he wished it, he could in Mr Segundus find a friend and a confidant. Thus, Mr Segundus decided to open upon the subject.

How strange it was that Mr Segundus wanted to talk about the matter so! In the daytime he would never have dared to discuss it. Even when he had entered Childermass' room a few hours ago, with his thoughts full of nothing else, Mr Segundus had felt that it was far too rude to ask Childermass about such a thing to his face. How funny it is that the darkness and the quietness of the middle of the night can change one's mind about such things!

Lying there in the soft bed, unable to see Childermass but able to hear his quiet breathing, Mr Segundus felt certain that Childermass would not be too offended to speak of such things. Indeed, Mr Segundus fancied that Childermass would be rather relieved at the opportunity to discuss his troubles.

Thus it was with rather more boldness than Mr Segundus would have felt at any other time, that he said, "Mr Childermass, I have been thinking... (And you must tell me if you do not want to speak of it, for I would not wish to pry where I wasn't wanted.) But I have been thinking about all you told me last night; of your..." He cast about for a way to put it. "... of your similarity to myself in... in... when it comes to men."

"Oh." The sheets rustled as if Childermass had just turned to him. "Have you now?"

"Yes." Mr Segundus braved on. "And I was wondering. (I know I have no right to ask, but I thought you might find it helpful to discuss...) I was wondering if perhaps you might have an inclination (that is to say: a... hm... a desire) for any one person in particular?"

Childermass took a breath and let it out. "Oh really?" said he. "Should I presume, sir, that you have some thoughts as to whom this person might be?"

"Yes," agreed Mr Segundus. "And you should know that I, of course, make no judgement. Indeed, I think I might perhaps understand your situation very well." Here Mr Segundus paused, but Childermass was quiet. It seemed that Childermass would not be drawn out; if this person was to be named, then Mr Segundus must be the one to name him.

"Mr Childermass," said Mr Segundus as gently as he could. "Am I correct in thinking that you have a particular desire for Vinculus?"

Childermass burst into a peal of laughter.

This laughter was so sudden and so loud that Mr Segundus was quite startled by it and, without thinking, drew back from Childermass in the bed.

The mattress was shaking a great deal and the blankets were shifting also, as if Childermass were rolling from side to side. It certainly sounded as if he were finding it difficult to breathe, laughing as much as he was.

Mr Segundus frowned.

Childermass sucked in a ragged breath. "Oh, Mr Segundus," said he, before laughing again. "Vinculus!" he exclaimed. "Oh, lord above!"

Finally it sounded as if Childermass' laughter were subsiding. He breathed heavily and the blankets shifted some more. "Oh Vinculus," he muttered to himself. "Of all the people... But..." Childermass coughed and let out an amused sigh. "No, sir. No. Don't be offended. I can see it. I see it now. It is because I make it my business to have him undress for me, isn't it?"

"You, ah..." ventured Mr Segundus. "You have seemed to be particularly determined to find a spell so that it might be warm enough for Vinculus to undress again."

"Yes; I see it," said Childermass. He laughed once or twice.

"And," continued Mr Segundus, "when Vinculus said that you always wish to share a bed with him when you stay in an inn..."

"Oh." Childermass laughed again. "That as well? I had not thought of that. It seems you have put all the pieces together, sir."

"But I am wrong?" asked Mr Segundus hesitantly.

"Very much so." Childermass let out a chuckle. "But I mean no offense, Mr Segundus. And I am far from offended myself. I can see what made you think so. I can see it." He took a deep breath as if to compose himself. "You may rest assured, sir, that my interest in Vinculus' body is magical only. The same text could be written upon the side of a cow and I would still show just as much enthusiasm for it. As for our sharing a bed; that is (I am sorry to say) purely financial. If money were no issue, I would rather us have separate rooms (Vinculus, as you have heard, tends to snore rather heavily, which does not make for a restful night's sleep). But I have only a finite amount of money and it must be used judiciously; I do not mean to spend all of it upon two beds when one bed will do just as well for the both of us." Childermass huffed. "If Vinculus were able to pay for his share, then I might act differently."

"Oh," said Mr Segundus.

"Do not worry, sir," said Childermass. "I do not laugh at you. I laugh merely because the idea of my desiring Vinculus is so unexpected to me. He is far from the type of man I desire, you see. Far from it." Childermass paused for a second, but then continued. "Indeed, you will understand how very different he is when I tell you: my desires do not lie towards men like Vinculus, Mr Segundus." He huffed again. "My desires lie instead towards men like yourself."

Mr Segundus felt every hair upon his head rise. "Like myself?" he asked (rather more loudly than he had meant to).

"Indeed," said Childermass. "Although it is perhaps a fallacy to say 'men like yourself'; for are there any other men, sir, who fit your mould?"

Oh! Oh! Poor Mr Segundus did not know at all what to do with such a statement! He was hot and cold all over, with his hands suddenly trembling and his heart suddenly hammering in his chest. Indeed, he was so surprised, and so felt the shock of the thing, that before he realised it he found himself voicing the very first thought that entered his mind, which was: "Oh, but Mr Childermass, then how are you able to suppress your desires so easily?"

"Suppress my desires?" echoed Childermass.

"Yes," continued Mr Segundus earnestly, too panicked now to divert the conversation onto any other path. "You are so calm and collected always, Mr Childermass. You find it so easy to avoid any sinful acts and thoughts." Childermass did not interject, and so Mr Segundus continued on hurriedly, "Oh, Mr Childermass, you know how affected I am. You have seen just how my body betrays me without my willing it. I have tried and tried to avoid my sinful thoughts, yet I have never been able to fully overcome them." Mr Segundus pulled his knees up to his chest and hugged them. "While you, Mr Childermass, are able to sleep here in this bed, and with me so close, and not be affected at all." Mr Segundus sighed. "I know, sir, that you have a moral integrity that I do not possess. But I wish there were some way I could learn from the example of your strength."

Childermass was silent for some time, but then he replied, "Moral integrity? I do not believe anyone has claimed that of me before."

"Then they do you a disservice," said Mr Segundus.

"No, sir," said Childermass. "No. I am afraid I must disagree. They are quite right. I no more have moral integrity than I have the ability to suppress my desires, or to avoid sinful thoughts, or to do any of the things you kindly credit me with." He was silent for a second or two, and then he breathed out. "I have only," said he, "a habit of planning ahead, which you may find useful to adopt yourself, sir, if your thoughts distress you so very much."

Mr Segundus did not know what to make of this. He looked to where Childermass lay but could see nothing. "Planning ahead?" asked Mr Segundus.

"Ay," returned Childermass, who was then silent for some more moments. The mattress shifted, as if he had just turned, or stretched, or made some other movement. He took a breath. "Mr Segundus, I imagine you will have noticed this in yourself: you will have found that when you have reached that moment when... (How best to say it?) ...when your desires are at their _peak_." Childermass paused. "I mean to say: when you have come to that pinnacle of... of... satisfaction... of... When the _business is concluded_..." Childermass huffed. "Forgive me, sir. I do not know how to put this politely: when you have spilled your seed. Do you understand me? When you have spilled your seed, sir, I imagine that you find, as do I, that you may then go for many hours together without suffering from one moment of desire or one lustful thought; all is calm and at peace. It is certainly something I have noticed in myself. And therefore," said Childermass, "in order to ensure an uneventful night's sleep with you in my bed, Mr Segundus, I merely take the precaution of reaching my _pinnacle of satisfaction_ beforehand."

Mr Segundus stared into the darkness. This discussion was so much more frank and forthright than he had expected that he did not know what to say in response.

"And, as I say, sir," continued Childermass. "This technique has been helpful to me, and so may you find it helpful to you."

"Ah..." said Mr Segundus after a moment. "Ah... Thank you, Mr Childermass. That does seem... Thank you for your advice." (Though this reply was given so much from instinct that afterwards Mr Segundus would not have been able to tell you what he had said at all.)

Childermass said no more, and Mr Segundus (as he had no more eloquence left to spare) said no more either. A silence lapsed between them, and then grew, and lengthened, and soon the silence had continued on for so long that Mr Segundus fancied it would be easier to let the silence remain and attempt to return to sleep rather than to embark upon any further conversation.

What was the cause of this inability to speak in Mr Segundus? Was it the shock of Childermass' frank manner? Of his language? Well, it was true that while Mr Segundus knew Childermass to tend towards frankness in all things, he was surprised to hear such an open and unconcerned confession to sinful actions. (For Childermass' explanation was, of course, a confession to that sinful practice of onanism.) Not ever would Mr Segundus have dared to admit to doing such a thing himself (though he knew himself to be very guilty upon that score).

But while a confession of onanism may have surprised Mr Segundus, it would not have rendered him so utterly silent. No; Mr Segundus' silence instead resulted from the conclusion he had drawn from this confession.

That Childermass engaged in such a sinful practice in order to protect himself from (that is to say: because of) his desire for Mr Segundus was a thing so unexpected that Mr Segundus could barely believe it was true. Oh, but that was not all! For once Mr Segundus had realised this, and had considered what Childermass had admitted to, suddenly all sorts of things began to make sense in a way they had not done before, and these revelations came in such a rush that Mr Segundus did not know what to do with himself.

For, you see, Mr Segundus at that moment had remembered how welcoming Childermass' room had always been when he had entered it: how rumpled and tumbled had been the mattress; how warm had been the bedsheets; how the room had smelled of Childermass himself.

Oh, lord in heaven! Childermass had confessed to engaging in the act of onanism before he shared a bed with Mr Segundus. And where, indeed, would he perform such an act if not in the bed itself? The mattress, therefore, was rumpled from _exertion_ ; the bedsheets were warm from _the heat of straining limbs_ ; and the smell did not come merely from Childermass when at rest but (good lord!) from _a body trembling upon the peak of ecstasy_!

What is one to do when they have made the discovery of all these things? When they realise that the bed they have been sleeping in comfortably for this many nights has been the witness to so sordid an act? Mr Segundus felt certain that a right-thinking person would be appalled to learn of such a thing and would be disgusted to lie in such a place. But, oh! Mr Segundus found that he had no trace of either feeling within him!

My dear reader, I cannot be coy here. The truth was that Mr Segundus was shocked to silence not by Childermass' advice nor by Childermass' confession; Mr Segundus was shocked to silence by the force of his own lust as it flared within him.

You see, Mr Segundus was hard (that is to say that his private piece was hard, and instantly so). His breathing was shallow, his mouth was dry, and he felt certain that his skin was flushed from head to toe. If Mr Segundus had spoken in that moment, he did not doubt that his condition would have been apparent to anyone, let alone to someone with a mind as keen as Childermass'.

And, of course, Childermass must not know how Mr Segundus had responded to his words. How must it feel to give advice for the avoidance of lust, only to have that very lust received in return? It was not right and Childermass would not have approved of it. Therefore Mr Segundus remained silent. Oh, what kind of depraved and sordid mind would revel in talk of onanism? What foul person must Mr Segundus be to feel neither the pity nor the disapproval that he ought, but to instead feel the very fires of lust and the heat of desire? Oh, sinful Mr Segundus!

Thus Mr Segundus lay there silently and attempted, in his silence and stillness, to persuade both Childermass and himself that he meant to fall asleep.

It seems that Mr Segundus' actions did at least satisfy Childermass, for eventually Mr Segundus heard Childermass' breathing slow, as if he had fallen into slumber. But Mr Segundus himself could not be fooled in such a way, and he lay there awake for, oh, I know not how long.

Mr Segundus ached with his longing! He tried not to think of it, but how difficult it is to tell oneself not to think of something! The more Mr Segundus attempted to quell his thoughts, the more vividly they returned. Oh, Mr Segundus fancied he could see it all: he could see Childermass in the bed; he could see Childermass (heavens above!) taking himself in hand; he could see Childermass stretched out and taut and trembling!

And when did this all take place? Why, surely not long before Mr Segundus arrived in the room himself! And in Mr Segundus' mind's eye there were mere moments between Childermass reaching his conclusion (his "pinnacle of satisfaction" as he had put it) and Mr Segundus' knocking upon the door. And then Childermass would be hastily wiping himself clean before opening the door with his cheeks flushed and his smile warm and... Oh!

Yet there is more. What if Mr Segundus had arrived earlier than Childermass had expected? What then? Would Childermass have been forced to answer the door with his private piece hard beneath his nightshirt? Or, no... perhaps he would not wish to stop and so would answer the door with his private piece still in his hand, working it so. Or maybe, and worst of all, Mr Segundus would be called upon to open the door himself, which would lead to his discovery of Childermass still naked upon the bed, all flushed and straining. "Ah," Childermass would say (or rather, he would gasp), "Mr Segundus, would you be so good as to lend me a hand?"

So taken up was Mr Segundus with these thoughts that, quite understandably, it was a long time before he could fall asleep. When he did, finally, his sleep was but a light and shallow thing, filled with those same imaginings that had plagued his waking mind: there was Childermass flushed in pleasure; and there were the soft sheets of the bed, all warm from Childermass' skin; and there was Mr Segundus entering the room to be called into Childermass' service, to touch that hot skin and to speed Childermass, trembling and breath ragged, towards his end.

This dream-filled sleep of Mr Segundus' was indeed so light that he barely even moved in the bed, save to pull his dressing gown around himself more tightly when the air grew colder. Not once during the night did Mr Segundus draw closer to Childermass, which was a relief, for it felt as if Mr Segundus' private piece was hard more often than it was not.

Eventually the morning arrived, and Mr Segundus woke to the sound of the chambermaid closing the bedroom door softly behind her and walking away down the corridor. He found, to his surprise, that he was lying in almost exactly the same position in which he had fallen asleep; indeed, his ear ached from where it had been pressed against the bolster for so long.

Had Mr Segundus been granted a sense of peace and calm with the coming of the dawn? I am sorry to say that he had not. It felt to Mr Segundus as if the entirety of his fevered dreams remained with him. So vivid were the recollections of these dreams that he felt almost as if they were real; as if he could reach out and touch them. Yet, for all this, Mr Segundus fancied that his private piece was no longer hard. He reached down, carefully, just to be sure, and discovered that in this surmise he was correct.

Mr Segundus was relieved to discover this fact, but not fully so, for the longer he remained awake, the more his thoughts from the night returned to him. He flushed to think of the bed, of Childermass' use of it, of the musky smell of the sheets. Oh no indeed; Mr Segundus was not hard, but it felt as if he were mere moments away from his lusts returning in full force and his hardness returning also.

Tentatively, Mr Segundus opened his eyes. Childermass, beside him, was asleep and lying upon his back. And there Mr Segundus intended to leave him. For if Mr Segundus did indeed grow hard again and Childermass woke, then Mr Segundus would have no way of escaping without his hardness being discovered. (And how terrible it would be for Childermass to realise that Mr Segundus was so depraved that even advice upon the suppression of lust would cause lust within him!)

Thus Mr Segundus quietly and carefully rose from the bed, shutting the bed-curtains behind him. He slid his feet into his slippers and took up his unlit candle. Behind him there came a noise from the bed, as if its occupant had rolled over, or perhaps had woken.

Hastily, Mr Segundus left the room.


	5. Chapter 5

For the first time in many days, Mr Segundus found himself pleased with the weather.

Why so? Had it grown warm? Had the wind stopped howling? Had the snow stopped falling? Was the sun bright and cheery? Bless me; no. The weather that morning was just as unpleasant and as cold as it ever was. The difference was only in Mr Segundus' attitude toward it.

As Mr Segundus made his way back to his own room from Childermass', he found himself revelling in the coldness of the corridors he passed through. This is not to say that he found the coldness comfortable (indeed, he did not find it comfortable at all), but then, comfort was the last thing he at that moment wished for.

You see, Mr Segundus had fled Childermass' room because Mr Segundus was still so full of lustful thoughts that he was worried that his body would compromise himself (which is to say: that his private piece would grow hard) on an instant. Mr Segundus did not want Childermass to discover such an occurrence, and nor did he want anybody else to discover it either.

How wonderful, then, was the cold! How brisk it was! How uncomfortable! How distracting! Surely such cold would easily douse the fires of lust that tormented him that morning.

Mr Segundus shivered as he passed through Starecross Hall's cold corridors and he rejoiced in his shivering! He concentrated all his mind upon it. And he even removed his dressing gown so that he might fuel his discomfort the better.

"Oh, how cold it is!" thought Mr Segundus to himself. "How chilling! Why, it is so cold that I doubt I will have the opportunity to think of anything else all day save for a wish to become warm again!"

He entered his bedroom to discover that it was not, unfortunately, so cold as the corridors, for the fire had already been lit.

"No matter," said Mr Segundus to himself. "No matter."

Some long while later, when Mr Segundus' manservant Charles entered the room to lay out Mr Segundus' clothes for the day, Charles appeared rather surprised to discover that not only was his master already awake and present, but that Mr Segundus was sat in only his nightshirt, reading a book beside an open window.

"Heavens, sir!" cried Charles. "Why-ever do you have the window open on a day such as this? Do you not see how the windowpanes are iced over?"

"Oh," said Mr Segundus, looking up. He closed his book with shaking hands. "I wished to have some light to read, and I had felt rather on the warm side, so I..." He looked to the window. "Do you know, I had forgotten I had it open?"

"Bless me, sir," said Charles, walking over to shut the window. "You will catch a fever like that, if you haven't caught one already." He peered down at Mr Segundus. "You said you were warm, sir. Do you still feel warm? Even though this room is cold as all hell?"

Mr Segundus shook his head. "Oh, no; I am no longer warm, thank you. In fact, now you mention it, Charles, I realise that I am rather chilled." He allowed Charles to take him by the elbow and usher him from the window and over to the fire. "How cold I feel!" said Mr Segundus, sounding rather happy with this fact. "How very cold I feel!"

"Yes, sir", said Charles, frowning. "Yes." And once he had seen to it that Mr Segundus was sitting by the fire with his dressing gown on, Charles then went down to the kitchen (with no little hurry) to fetch some warm water for Mr Segundus to wash his face in.

When Mr Segundus was washed and dressed (in, I might add, his warmest coat; for although he had wished to put on the thinnest coat he owned, Charles had refused to let him) he made his way down to the little drawing room for breakfast.

Was Mr Segundus nervous about meeting Childermass again? I am happy to say that, no, he was not. His plan, it seems, had worked and he was so taken up with how uncomfortable he felt, and how he wished to prolong that feeling, that he had no thoughts to spare for anything of a lustful nature.

Being the first to arrive in the drawing room, Mr Segundus sat himself down at the breakfast table, taking care to occupy the seat farthest from the fire. He was not alone for long, however, for soon he was joined by Childermass and (unlike the previous day) by Vinculus also.

Vinculus was yawning, which had the curious effect of causing Mr Segundus to do likewise. Mr Segundus apologised, holding his hand over his mouth, and then, when finally released from this activity, he wished both Vinculus and Childermass a good morning.

Childermass returned the greeting (much as Childermass usually would), and while there was nothing out of the ordinary in Childermass' manner, Mr Segundus still happened to feel a little shaky when their eyes met.

Mr Segundus covered this discomfort with another yawn (this one entirely contrived) and turned his attention instead to Vinculus. "Oh, excuse me," said Mr Segundus, yawning yet again (this one not contrived at all). "You are looking well this morning, Vinculus," said Mr Segundus, recovering himself. "I trust you feel better than you did yesterday?"

Vinculus gave Mr Segundus a quizzical look, but quickly followed this with a short, sharp laugh. "Much better, sir. Much better." Vinculus scratched at his nose with a knuckle. "That porter helped me sleep like a lamb."

"Oh, I am glad," returned Mr Segundus.

Vinculus looked to Mr Segundus again, this time with a rather frustrated air, as if Mr Segundus' reply were not the one Vinculus wished to hear. "As I say, sir," repeated Vinculus, "like a lamb." He stared at Mr Segundus some more. " _Like a lamb_."

"Oh," said Mr Segundus, as he realised what was expected of him. "Oh, yes, if it helps, then I am sure we can see to it that you have some more porter tonight."

Vinculus smiled toothily, now apparently satisfied, and leaned across the table to the bread rolls, which were at that moment being set out along with the rest of the breakfast things by the parlourmaid.

What a pleasant sight a good breakfast can be! With soft, white bread rolls, hot and steaming from the oven. Then there were the fresh pats of butter; the jams and the marmalades; the shining coffeepot, full of freshly-made coffee; and the thick slices of cold, roast mutton.

"And I hope," continued Vinculus, helping himself to all of these things, "that you slept well yourself, Mr Segundus."

"I..." started Mr Segundus. " _Oh_."

What caused this lack of eloquence in Mr Segundus? Was it the memory of his lewd nightly thoughts? Of his frank discussion with Childermass? No, indeed! At this moment, those things couldn't have been further from Mr Segundus' mind. What had caused Mr Segundus to pause so, was that while the breakfast table had been laid with all sorts of wonderful things, in front of Mr Segundus himself had been placed only a bowl of gruel (and rather thin gruel, at that).

Mr Segundus looked up at the parlourmaid. "I... ah. Gruel, Sally?"

"Oh, yes, sir," replied, not Sally, but Mrs Bull, who just that moment had entered the room carrying a mug. She set this mug down in front of Mr Segundus. It was full of porter.

"Gruel and a nice mug of porter for you, sir," said Mrs Bull.

"Oh," said Mr Segundus again, transferring his gaze from Sally the parlourmaid (who had curtsied and escaped to a corner of the room) to Mrs Bull. "Forgive me, Mrs Bull, but..."

"For your health, sir!" explained Mrs Bull, bobbing a curtsey of her own. "For your health! We cannot go making you feel worse with too much rich food. Something easily digested is what you need."

"Mm," replied Mr Segundus, frowning. "Forgive me again, Mrs Bull, but I don't see..."

"Bless me, sir," returned Mrs Bull, with a fond smile, "you are always so brave in the face of illness, but it will not do. You cannot carry on as normal and so let your illness overtake you; in good conscience I will not let you."

"Ill?" asked Mr Segundus. He shook his head. "There has been some mistake, Mrs Bull; I am not ill!"

Mrs Bull favoured him with another fond smile. "If you say so, sir. If you say so. But Charles tells me that you are running a temperature; so much so that he found you this morning sitting in the freezing cold with a window open."

At this, the colour in Mr Segundus' face drained a little. He then noticed that Childermass happened to greet Mrs Bull's statement with some interest, which caused all the colour to return to Mr Segundus' face rather quickly.

Mrs Bull appeared to notice Childermass' interest as well, for she graced that man with a disapproving look. "And it is no wonder you have grown ill, Mr Segundus, what with your spending yesterday in rooms without fires and getting yourself so cold!" She tutted and turned to Mr Segundus with a smile. "But never fear. We will get you well again soon. And if you feel worse, you must tell me so that we may make you as comfortable as possible."

Mr Segundus went again to reply that he was not ill, and it was most certainly not the fault of their performing spells in a cold room, but Mrs Bull had already curtsied and bustled out of the room. With a sigh, Mr Segundus gazed dolefully down at his gruel (which, to add a further layer of disappointment, was hot and steaming and likely to make him grow very warm and comfortable upon eating it). From beside him, he heard Vinculus laughing a great deal.

"I see I forced you to sit around in cold rooms too much yesterday, Mr Segundus," said Childermas, sounding as if he were not sure whether or not he should feel guilty as a result of Mrs Bull's chastisement.

Mr Segundus shook his head. "No indeed! You have not forced me to do anything, Mr Childermass. Besides which, I really am not ill at all."

"Is that so?" Childermass nodded in Mr Segundus' direction. "And yet you eat the gruel without complaint." (For this was indeed what Mr Segundus had started doing.)

"Ah," said Mr Segundus, feeling now foolish on top of everything else. "Well, Mrs Hitchin..." (This was the cook.) "...has gone to the trouble of making it for me, and I do not wish to waste her work."

At this, one corner of Childermass' mouth rose, and poor Mr Segundus felt his embarrassment grow yet greater. Vinculus, for his part, laughed some more (which did nothing to help relieve Mr Segundus' embarrassment either).

Still, embarrassment has its uses, and while Mr Segundus did not like the feeling, it did have the benefit of overpowering his lust (which the cold could no longer do now that Mr Segundus had started eating his hot gruel).

Thus breakfast passed without further incident and Mr Segundus and Childermass were soon making their way to the library to start on the day's research.

What a peaceful scene they made in the library! with the both of them sitting at the table before the fire and setting to the note-taking they had embarked upon the previous day. Were we to pay closer attention, we would notice that Mr Segundus was once again sitting farthest from the fire. This was, of course, deliberate on his part and was a result of his desire to remain cold. You see, not only was he once again avoiding lust, but he found that the cold also had the benefit of keeping him awake, for he felt himself to be rather tired now that his stomach was full of gruel and porter. However, Mr Segundus soon became so absorbed in his book that he neglected to worry about either of these things.

After, perhaps, one or two hours of quiet concentration, Mr Segundus was startled out of his research by Childermass talking to him.

What Childermass said was this: "Now, sir. What do you say to some practical magic? I have a mind to try my hand at another spell for warmth and I would be grateful if you would join me." Childermass gave him a questioning look. "If, that is, you feel well enough to go sit in a cold place."

"Oh, please don't be concerned upon my account!" replied Mr Segundus. "I assure you I am not ill in the slightest!"

Childermass looked at him some more, and Mr Segundus felt his cheeks heating.

"You are certain?" asked Childermass. "I do not wish to be responsible for making you even more ill." He gave a wry smile. "If I do Mrs Bull and I will never be friends again."

Mr Segundus laughed. "I am quite certain. Mrs Bull worries fat more than she needs to. I was merely feeling a little warm this morning; that is all."

Childermass gave Mr Segundus another long look (which had Mr Segundus' cheeks heating again), but then, it seems, Childermass acquiesced. "Very well," said he, standing and beginning to gather some books together. "Let us go."

Thus Childermass listed the items he wished Mr Segundus to bring with them, which Mr Segundus duly fetched. (Mr Segundus also took with him his blanket from the previous day, for although he did not wish to grow too comfortable, he did not wish to protest warmth and be subjected to any more of Childermass' questioning looks either.) Then together they set out for that cold room in which they had practised their magic the previous day.

Once there they set down their books and instruments and Childermass began to perform the latest spell that he had found. While he was doing this, Mr Segundus made a show of sitting down and wrapping his blanket around himself.

Now, it was Mr Segundus' intention to quietly let the blanket fall away from his shoulders once Childermass was fully occupied with the spell. After all, how wonderfully, distractingly cold the room was! It seems, however, that their work on the spell was so distracting in itself that Mr Segundus soon forgot that he was meant to be keeping cold and instead gathered the blanket closer about himself as he and Childermass discussed the magic that Childermass was performing.

Still, an engaged mind will do just as well to keep out lustful thoughts as will the discomfort of the cold, and their work progressed well (or, that is, as well as it could do despite their coming no closer to finding a spell that worked).

After an hour of this, they discarded their current spell and decided to try another.

"How about Branon's Alterations?" suggested Mr Segundus, passing his notes upon that spell to Childermass. "Perhaps we might have some success with Branon's Alterations."

Childermass read the notes with a thoughtful look upon his face, then agreed to make an attempt upon the spell. He called out the things he would need, and Mr Segundus passed them to him: five lengths of cord at nine inches each, a candlestick, some charcoal, and a looking glass. Childermass then set to preparing everything.

If you do not know Branon's Alterations yourself (and I do not know why you should) I can tell you that it is particularly complicated to prepare. First, the looking glass and the candlestick must be placed upon the floor at a set distance from each other. Then a series of complex magical signs must be drawn around these items. Mr Segundus watched as Childermass accomplished this with the charcoal, with Childermass referring to the diagram in Mr Segundus' notes all the while.

Next, the five lengths of cord must be plaited together and this plait laid between the looking glass and the candlestick.

Mr Segundus watched Childermass do this also.

"What skill Mr Childermass has!" thought Mr Segundus absently. "See how accurately he copied out my diagram. And see how competently he plaits that cord. I do not think I would have been able to do it half so easily. How very clever he is with his hands!"

Without warning, a thought then rose in Mr Segundus' mind, which was so far from magic and anything respectable that Mr Segundus felt as if his face had flushed up red from his neckcloth to his hair.

Need I state what thought Mr Segundus had had? For I am certain you can guess it. You see, Mr Segundus had found himself thinking of all the clever things that Childermass might do with his hands, and, in particular, all the clever things that Childermass might do with his hands (did do, in fact) when he was in his bed and waiting for Mr Segundus to arrive of an evening.

Oh! How nimble Childermass' fingers! To see how he worked those cords together! To see how deft his touch!

"There now," said Childermass, standing and brushing his palms on his breeches when he was done. "Shall we start?"

He looked to Mr Segundus and Mr Segundus' stomach turned itself upside-down.

"Ah. Yes," agreed Mr Segundus. In desperation, he threw his blanket to one side and stood up so as to feel the cold of the room more fully (using as his excuse his walking over to inspect Childermass' work). "Yes. Let us start." Upon saying this, Mr Segundus moved out of the way so that Childermass might begin the spell, but Mr Segundus did not sit down again.

And so Childermass began. He knelt upon the floor and recited an incantation, then he picked up the plaited cords and wound them, carefully, around the knuckles of one hand, twisting them under and over each of his fingers.

Mr Segundus took a step back so that he might be closer to the windows. How drafty it felt! How good it was to be so very cold!

Childermass recited the next incantation. He unwound the cords from his knuckles with the same care and attention, then deftly wound them around the candlestick.

Oh! Oh! Mr Segundus turned around to face the windows fully. How very blustery it seemed outside! Was it colder out there than it had been the previous day? Perhaps it was. Why, look at those bare trees. How uncomfortable it must be to stand out there all day, as they did. It must be the most uncomfortable thing in the world!

"... work either." Childermass was saying.

It was some moments before Mr Segundus realised that those last words were not part of an incantation but were instead addressed to him.

"I beg your pardon, Mr Childermass." Mr Segundus turned around. "What did you say?"

"I said," repeated Childermass, "that this spell does not seem to work either. Do you feel any the warmer for it?"

"Oh, no," replied Mr Segundus, perhaps rather more adamantly than he needed to. "No. No. Not at all."

Childermass sighed. He sat back on his haunches and looked Mr Segundus in the eye. "What do you say, sir? Did I make some mistake that you could see? What are your thoughts?"

Mr Segundus felt himself blushing. "Oh. I am sorry, Mr Childermass, but I'm afraid I wasn't paying attention."

Childermass' brow quirked and Mr Segundus found himself blushing further.

"I believe," said Mr Segundus, thinking quickly, "that the cold has rather overcome me." He glanced about himself. "If you do not mind, I shall leave you to the spell and myself return to the library."

Childermass smiled. (Oh, to see that smile!) "Go," said he. "Later, I shall tell you how I get on. Perhaps we may discuss it over dinner."

"Thank you," said Mr Segundus, bowing and heading to the door. "I shall look forward to it."

Childermass smiled again. He nodded toward the chair where Mr Segundus had been sitting. "Do not forget your blanket, sir."

"Oh," said Mr Segundus. "No. Of course. Thank you." And, picking up the blanket, Mr Segundus fled the room.

What a relief it was to be free from Childermass' distracting presence! Indeed, Mr Segundus had begun to worry so much that his thoughts might lead to his body becoming compromised (viz. his private piece growing hard) that he did not fancy he was cold at all; instead he felt hot with nervous excitement all over.

It was with a large amount of gratitude, then, that Mr Segundus entered the library and collapsed back into his chair at the table beside the fire. Yet he was too overcome to set to his reading immediately, and for that we must forgive him. Distracted as he was, Mr Segundus instead allowed himself a moment (just a very brief moment, he told himself) to dwell upon the thoughts that he had so desperately tried to suppress in Childermass' presence:

There were Childermass' hands, lined and strong, with their long, lithe fingers; and there they were, gently, carefully, curling around Childermass' private member. They would be confident in their work (most certainly), giving long strokes or light caresses, and Childermass would be breathing heavily, his back arching, his face red, his...

Oh! Oh! But while growing hard in Childermass' presence would be terrible, growing hard in the library would scarcely be better. What if somebody came in through the door? Mr Segundus was not yet fully compromised, you must understand, but he felt as if he were a good deal of the way there; so it was with a determined air that he resolutely put all lustful thoughts to one side and settled down to do some reading.

The book Mr Segundus had been looking into before they had left to conduct the spell (a modern book by an anonymous magician that had the title: "A Treatise upon the Seasons, as noted by the thirteenth century magician, Jowan Treseder, and his wife Alice, accompanied by several most useful Plans and Diagrams") had been very interesting, and so Mr Segundus now threw himself into the reading of it.

Ah, the joys of scholarship! Thankfully, Mr Segundus fell fully into his reading; so much so that he became, once more, oblivious to the world around him. He read through two pages of the book and scratched out a number of notes upon a piece of paper. How wonderful it was to become so absorbed in a book! Mr Segundus read through the next page, which included a spell that required a length of cord to be tied into a complicated knot, and before he realised it he had forgotten the book entirely and had instead spent several long minutes dwelling upon Childermass' performance of the latest spell: of how Childermass had plaited those lengths of cord together so deftly, and how deft his fingers might be in _all manner_ of other tasks.

To think that Childermass did so every night! Used his fingers to such a sinful purpose while lying in bed and waiting for Mr Segundus to arrive at the door! To think how Childermass might tremble at his own touch! How he might throw back his head against the bolster, the light from the fire catching upon the line of his neck, his shoulders tense, the tip of his private piece shining from the...

Oh! No! No no no no! With a start, Mr Segundus came to himself and realised where his thoughts were leading him. Why, he was no longer making any attempt at reading! His pen had been discarded upon the tabletop and he was sitting back in his chair with his arms folded upon his breast. This would not do at all!

With an angry noise at himself, Mr Segundus once more sat forward and picked up his pen. He looked to the book, read through another line, then sighed and dropped his pen once more so that he might push his hands into his hair.

Oh my. Was there ever anyone who looked so despairing as did Mr Segundus at that moment?

And yet Mr Segundus' thoughts, were we to hear them, were not so despairing at all. Oh, to be sure, Mr Segundus' conscience was in its stride, telling him how undisciplined he was to let his thoughts overcome him so, and how terrible it would be if he allowed his private piece to grow hard enough (and I must tell you that it was well on the way!) that someone else might notice. How would it be for one of the servants (or, heaven forbid, Childermass himself) to enter the room and find the master of the house in such a state in the library? The thought of it was too dire to comprehend!

However, strong though its voice was, Mr Segundus' conscience was not on this occasion carrying sway. For there was another thought in Mr Segundus' mind (a dangerous, provocative thought) which considered that if Mr Segundus was going to become compromised, then why not leave for the privacy of his bedroom where he might take care of it once and for all? After all, said this thought, was this not the advice that Childermass had given? As Childermass had said, once Mr Segundus had sated his desires then they would no longer trouble him. (And Mr Segundus knew from his own experience that this was true; his desires would not linger once he had brought himself to an end.)

Surely, then, it was sensible to take Childermass' advice. (And Childermass was undoubtedly a sensible man.) For why was Mr Segundus so overcome with lust now? Was it not because he had not once engaged in the practice of onanism since he and Childermass had started sharing a bed? Mr Segundus could only hold out for so long, weak man that he was. Really, it was no surprise that his lusts were troubling him now. Was it not best, while there was no-one around to note his movements, to quietly slip from the library and affect a solution?

I am not sure it is possible to say which of these arguments persuaded Mr Segundus the most, but I can tell you that before he had time to stop himself, Mr Segundus had stood from his chair and had hastily left for his bedroom.

My goodness! Mr Segundus all but ran through the corridors of Starecross Hall to reach the safety of his own room, for his private piece had grown fully hard once he had taken the decision to attend to it, and he did not wish for anyone to catch him in such a state. Thus it was, quickly (and quietly), that he made his way there and, once inside, locked the door behind him.

Oh, trembling hands! Oh, nervous anticipation! Mr Segundus swallowed and attempted to catch his breath as he walked across to draw the curtains so that he might not be observed from the garden. And how cold his bedroom was! He was not expected here and so the fire had not been lit.

Mr Segundus' aim was to be quick, and in the cold his first idea was to hastily take off his shoes and seek warmth beneath the blankets of his bed. But this would not do! for he was not meant to be sleeping in that room. What would Mary the chambermaid say when she came to light the fire in the evening (ready for Mr Segundus to change into his nightclothes) and found the bed all rumpled and used? Mr Segundus could perhaps pretend that he had come to his bedroom to take a nap before dinner, but the room was so cold that he doubted anyone would believe such a thing.

With one last, mournful look at the bed, Mr Segundus neglected it and instead sat down on the floor with his back to the wall farthest from the cold windows. The chill in the air added to Mr Segundus' desire to be quick, and so it was with little ado that he unbuttoned his breeches and pulled his private parts free.

Now, in case you are wondering, no, Mr Segundus did not normally perform the act of onanism whilst wearing all of his clothes. He most certainly would at least have removed his coat and tugged his breeches down around his knees in any other instance, so as to avoid staining them. But you must understand how truly cold it was in that room! Mr Segundus could not bear to remove any item of clothing and he would even have disliked exposing his private parts to the air were he not so intent upon his purpose.

But intent Mr Segundus was, and the hardness of his private member showed him to be so. He clasped his hand around it eagerly, giving himself a lingering stroke from the base to the tip and, oh, the feel of it was so sweet that Mr Segundus was forced to close his eyes and lean his head back against the wainscoting. It had been too long since Mr Segundus had indulged in this act. It had truly been too long.

Thus Mr Segundus set his hands to work (the both of them, for he could not bear to use just one) and he indulged himself in another way as well: you see, for the first time in many days, and without stopping once to reprimand himself for it, Mr Segundus allowed himself to think of Childermass:

There was Childermass in Childermass' bed (in the bed they both shared), and there he was naked atop the bedclothes (for in fantasies, no-one suffers from the cold), and there were the strong lines of his body, all taut and straining, for his private piece was stiff and urgent in his hand. And, oh, to see that private piece! (That _cock_ , if we may be permitted to use the word.) It was dark red, almost purple, and full, thick and long, shining at the tip where Childermass' fingers lingered, running over that soft skin and past that opening where, in Childermass' heightened enjoyment, the first drops of his seed were seeping out, clear and...

Mr Segundus bit his lip as he did the same with his fingers: let them run over the head of his private member (though he was not yet at the point where his seed would make an appearance). Oh yes. Oh dear. Mr Segundus had not planned to mirror his fantasy upon himself. He had meant to be quick and efficient (a few clean strokes followed by a grateful meeting of his end!) not doing as he now was: slowing his hands and making sure to touch all of his favourite places, wondering if Childermass liked to be touched in the same way. But the lure of the pleasure of it was too great once he had started (sinful Mr Segundus!) and he fancied that drawing the act out for a few more moments would not matter, not when he could reach down with one hand to massage his testicles just so, or when he could focus his other hand, light and teasing, upon the base of his shaft.

Oh, and of course Childermass would be doing the same, and would be mightily affected by it too. Why, there he was, breathing heavily, a hand coming up to rest itself against his forehead. And there was one of his thighs lolling to the side, the tendons taut, the muscles shivering. "Oh," Childermass would say, his lips open, teeth clenching (for he would be so close; _so close_ ). And the head of his private member (of his _cock_ ) would be leaking with abandon, coating his fingers, glistening in the light. His chest would heave. And there would come a knock upon the door.

Who would be at the door but Mr Segundus himself? It was time for bed, after all, but Childermass had taken too long: he had been interrupted, and for that (perhaps) he was rather glad.

"Come in," Childermass would growl at the door. (And growl he must, for his pleasure would be so thick that he would not be able to make any other noise, his hands still working his cock so.)

Mr Segundus would, of course, be embarrassed to enter and find Childermass spread out on the bed, cock hard, hair stuck to his forehead, his hands working fast.

"Oh," Mr Segundus would say. Oh! Oh! "I am so sorry, Mr Childermass. I did not mean to interrupt you."

And Childermass would snort. "You are no interruption, sir." Then he would give Mr Segundus a look, all dark eyes and flushed cheeks and pink lips, and as he did so he would remove his hands from his private parts and spread his thighs the wider and say, "If you please."

Oh oh oh! To feel the hot slickness of Childermass' private member! To see him writhe upon the bed, muscles tensing, hot skin and coarse hair beneath Mr Segundus' fingertips!

Back in the realm of reality, in Mr Segundus' cold bedroom (though the cold bothered him very little at that moment), there was a thunk as Mr Segundus pushed his head back against the wainscotting too hard, the knuckles of one hand pressing against his teeth. Oh. Oh. Wicked, wicked Mr Segundus to enjoy himself in such a way! He wished to watch the work of his own hands, to see the movement of his own cock beneath them (and so imagine Childermass' cock in the process) but it was too much, the sight too visceral for him to bear, for he was close now, the tip of his private piece indeed beading with moisture, his thumb dipping into it and spreading it about.

Mr Segundus tried to slow the movements of his hands, to slow his breathing (and though he was making very little noise, he still felt as if he were being too loud).

Slow. Slow and careful was the way. Slow, slow and slick; Childermass' cock, hard and hot, and Childermass shivering, trembling, his body stretched out, all nervous energy and hands clamped in the blankets. Childermass would not be looking at Mr Segundus now; he would not be able, his eyes glassy, open lips pink, throat shuddering through a swallow.

"Mr Segundus, Mr Segundus, Mr Segundus," he would say.

No. No he wouldn't. He would say " _John_." (This, of course, being Mr Segundus' Christian name.) Oh Yes. " _John, John, John._ " And his cock would be thick and hard, with its dark, round, purple head, on the cusp of his release and...

Oh! Oh! No! No! Mr Segundus was close himself, his own fingers trembling, but he was not at all prepared! He was not used to this! He would normally remove his breeches and his coat to avoid staining them, but he had not done so this time! And so, frantically, Mr Segundus let his hands fall from his private member (almost painful to leave it so!) and he dug in his pockets until he could find his handkerchief. This was pressed urgently to the head of Mr Segundus' member (must not stain his clothes, but must not lose the momentum either!) and now free to let himself go, Mr Segundus gave three hard strokes to his shaft (Childermass croaking, his hands clutching desperately in the blankets) and bent almost double with the ecstasy of it as he reached his pinnacle and the white folds of his handkerchief caught his seed.

Good heavens! It took Mr Segundus a long time to stop breathing heavily. And while supporting his own shoulders was undoubtedly difficult, being bent double (as he was) left him feeling a little nauseous, so Mr Segundus sat up and let the wainscotting hold him instead.

Oh my. What did Mr Segundus feel at that moment? Sitting there with his private parts (now limp) hanging out of his breeches, and he in all his clothes with a soiled handkerchief in his hands? Is it possible to tell? Well, Mr Segundus did feel a little guilty, though this was normal in such circumstances and not something to bother him too much. He was also beginning to feel rather cold, which bothered him a lot more. But mostly Mr Segundus felt the relief that one feels when one has completed a difficult task and knows that the future will be much easier because of it.

There now. Mr Segundus had followed Childermass' advice and thus Mr Segundus needed to worry no more. Already he was feeling his lust ebb away from him: he found he had no more desire to see Childermass naked nor to imagine Childermass at his lewd business. All Mr Segundus wished for at that moment was to set his clothing to rights and to be back in the warmth of the library with a cup of tea and some scholarly research in front of him. And can you imagine just how glad Mr Segundus was to realise that he could now go about the rest of the day, and could share a bed with Childermass that night, without being disturbed by his lusts and lurid imaginings?

Well, the details of how Mr Segundus straightened himself, procured a clean handkerchief, and returned to the library are of little interest to us. All we need know is that Mr Segundus' luck had held out: the library was still empty and no-one had missed his presence. Nor do we need know precisely which books Mr Segundus read upon his return, nor which notes he took. What I must tell you, merely, is that Mr Segundus contentedly set to his research (very contentedly, I might add) and managed to get a great deal done by the time he was called to dinner.

Childermass, it seems, had been at his spell-casting (or spell-attempting, at any rate) all the morning, for dinner was the first time Mr Segundus had seen him since Mr Segundus had left him in that cold room. Upon seeing Childermass' face again, Mr Segundus did feel a brief rush of anxiety as he remembered just how Childermass had featured in his terrible fantasies that day, but it did not last for very long. Why, for a start, Mr Segundus (thankfully) no longer felt the lust that had generated those fantasies. But also, Childermass began immediately to tell Mr Segundus about his failed attempts at spell-casting and his thoughts upon the reasons, and this, combined with Mr Segundus' recent reading, spawned so many interesting thoughts that Mr Segundus had no time to dwell upon any anxious feelings.

You will be pleased to hear that at dinner Mr Segundus was no longer prevailed upon to eat gruel. It seems that Mrs Bull was quite happy now to allow him to partake of the salted pork and the steaming vegetables with his fellows (for these delectables, along with some bread and butter and a currant pudding, were all that were provided on the table). However, Mrs Bull was not, perhaps, entirely finished with her worrying over Mr Segundus' health, for it was just as Mr Segundus was about to pour himself a mug of beer that Mrs Bull entered the room carrying second mug.

"Oh, do not trouble yourself with that, sir," said Mrs Bull, stalling Mr Segundus when he had just laid his hand upon the jug of beer upon the table. Mrs Bull set the mug she had been carrying in front of Mr Segundus. "Beer is not enough for you today, sir," said she. "I have a nice mug of porter here instead, to help you keep up your strength."

Mr Segundus frowned as all this took place. He released the jug of beer. "Porter again, Mrs Bull?"

"Oh yes," replied Mrs Bull with a curtsey. "One can never be too careful with one's health. And while you do look better, sir (I thought so as I brought you your tea in the library; there was a colour to your cheeks that you were lacking earlier) it is best to ensure you don't grow worse again. Therefore, if you are to eat this rich food..." And here, she gestured at the dishes upon the table. "...a mug of porter is just the thing to help the stomach take it."

Was that a sigh which escaped Mr Segundus' lips? He shook his head. "I am sorry, Mrs Bull, but I cannot have more porter."

Mrs Bull appeared rather alarmed to hear such a thing. "But your stomach, sir! Forgive me, but I don't see how you may object to a little mug of porter. And you so ill this morning!"

Mr Segundus shook his head further. "I assure you, Mrs Bull, I was not ill this morning. And I am not ill now. I am, in fact, quite well." He gave Mrs Bull a reassuring smile, but this was met only by a look of confusion. Mr Segundus persevered: "I thank you, Mrs Bull, for your thoughtfulness, but my stomach will be just fine without the porter. Indeed, the porter is likely to make me the worse. And I do not mean that it will make me ill," he said quickly, for he had seen that Mrs Bull had opened her mouth to protest, "but merely that I know that it will be too much for me: I am feeling rather tired today, and porter always makes my tiredness grow greater. Thank you for your kindness, but I should like to do some reading this evening, and I know that, were I to take the porter, I would be asleep within the hour."

"Oh," said Mrs Bull, sounding rather disappointed. "And you are certain, sir? Forgive my saying, but a good sleep is always a wonderful cure when a person is feeling ill. And, if it is not the sleeping, but our using up our stock of porter that you are worried about, then you need not concern yourself so. After all, the mug has been poured now, and it will go to waste if..."

"I am quite certain, Mrs Bull," returned Mr Segundus. "I do indeed intend to read after dinner. Porter is too strong for me tonight; I shall make do with the beer."

"Oh," said Mrs Bull again.

"If you are worried about it going to waste..." started Vinculus, who was leaning closer (and if we had looked to him earlier, we would have seen that he had been following the entire conversation with interest).

"Mrs Bull," said Childermass, interjecting quite unexpectedly. "Why don't you drink the porter yourself, to save it from going to waste? After all," said he, "it is so very cold, and you have been working hard to keep us all comfortable. You must think of your own health as well."

"Oh!" said Mrs Bull, in a rather more lively tone than before.

Mr Segundus, seeing a chance for him to be rid of the mug of porter once and for all, assented quickly: "Oh, yes. Please do, Mrs Bull. For your own comfort."

Mrs Bull, it seems, was rather pleased at this outcome. She bobbed a curtsey to Childermass, apparently willing to forget that she had ever been unhappy with his leading Mr Segundus into cold rooms. Mrs Bull also graced Mr Segundus with a curtsey, and then, not done, she turned and curtsied to Childermass again. "That is very kind of you, gentlemen," said she. "Very kind." And with a contented smile, she took up the mug of porter and returned with it to the kitchen.

Thus Mr Segundus was free to drink his beer (which he was glad of, for he had not lied about feeling tired and wishing to stay awake to read) and to eat his hearty dinner, and he and Childermass continued upon their conversation. Indeed, the only person who did not appear so happy was Vinculus; though it seems that unhappiness did nothing to stop his thorough enjoyment of all the salted pork, steaming vegetables, bread and butter, and currant pudding that the table had to offer.

After dinner, just as he had proposed to do, Mr Segundus returned to his reading in the library. Childermass joined him in this and they together had a productive time spent both reading and conversing. The subject of their conversation was, not surprisingly, Childermass' attempts at spells that day, his lack of success, and all the possible reasons thereof, as well as Mr Segundus' reading and the theories that this reading had brought to light. Indeed, they came to some rather interesting conclusions in their conversation, and they rather fancied that they had at last discovered a set of spells which might lead them to some success when they attempted them the next day.

If there was anything that Mr Segundus didn't find so comfortable about their evening in the library, it was not that he was troubled by his guilt and its attendant anxieties but merely that he found himself tired and yawning far more than he would have liked (and all this with his having drunk only beer at dinner!)

Supper found Mr Segundus even more tired than he had been before. He ate and he conversed with Childermass and Vinculus (the latter of whom appeared to be much more content now that he would soon be presented with porter for his own consumption), but Mr Segundus was not able to give them nearly so much attention as he felt he should have done. Indeed, at one point, shortly after supper, Mr Segundus paid his guests no attention at all, for he had fallen asleep in his chair beside the fireplace.

It was the sound of Vinculus standing and making his way out of the room (with his two bottles of porter in hand) which roused Mr Segundus from his slumber, though whether this was a short or a long time after he had first fallen asleep, he did not know.

"Oh, I am sorry," said Mr Segundus (with a yawn) in the direction of Vinculus' retreating form. "I am sorry." Mr Segundus then turned and looked about himself until he found Childermass, who was sitting and reading beside the window. "I have been terrible company," continued Mr Segundus in little more than a mumble. He yawned for a second time and pushed himself up to stand. "And I am afraid I will be worse still, for I must go to bed before I fall asleep again."

"It is no trouble." Childermass looked up from his book. "I was thinking soon to retire myself." Here, he gave Mr Segundus a smile. "Go. I will see you there."

Mr Segundus yawned once more. "Thank you." And he stumbled from the room.

Have you ever tried to undress for bed when your body has already been asleep and would very much like to be asleep again? Everything feels difficult and cold and uncomfortable, as if the whole world knows you wish to leave it for the realm of dreams and so gets jealous.

Mr Segundus undressed in a haze of unseeing confusion, and said his prayers in the same state. As he did so he had the feeling that he should have been asking forgiveness for something. What was it? Oh, yes. There it was: he had indulged in the terrible practice of onanism, and while thinking of Childermass no less. How very long ago that seemed! Mr Segundus duly prayed for forgiveness, but not with very much conviction (why, firstly, he was too sleepy to do any better, and secondly, he did not truly feel so very guilty; not at this distance of time, when he knew that he had been granted freedom from his lusts as a result).

"Perhaps," thought Mr Segundus to himself, "the Lord will see that I have indulged in this one sin to avoid another. Though I know this reasoning serves no purpose other than to make myself feel better."

But Mr Segundus was too tired to pursue that line of thought any further. And so, yawning again, he put on his slippers, took up his candle, and left in search of Childermass' room.

The cold of the corridors of Starecross Hall, as Mr Segundus passed through them, did nothing to wake him further; they only made him more uncomfortable than he had been before. Thus it was that, reaching Childermass' door, Mr Segundus knocked promptly, eager to be admitted into the warmth which he knew lay within.

As always, Childermass was in his nightcap and nightshirt when he opened the door, and he greeted Mr Segundus with a smile.

Mr Segundus smiled in return (rather sleepily so) and entered as soon as he was able. The room was warm and full of soft light from the fire, and the smell in the air was musky and comfortable and...

For a moment Mr Segundus was in danger of dropping his candle to the floor. Suddenly he was reminded of their conversation from the night before: the conversation that had troubled Mr Segundus so much throughout the morning. Oh! Oh! The smell in the air and the rumpled bedsheets and were not Childermass' cheeks rather on the flushed side?

Poor Mr Segundus was far too tired to handle such a revelation. The shock of it did not make him more wakeful than before; it merely served to feed tension into his weary frame until he felt weak with it.

Thankfully, Childermass at that moment was too busy climbing back into bed to notice that Mr Segundus had paused in shock. Thus, carefully, Mr Segundus set his candle down and snuffed it, then climbed into bed himself, determined to treat this night as if it were any other. ("For it is like any other!" claimed Mr Segundus' tired, treacherous mind. "Has not Childermass done the same thing every night in which we have shared a bed?")

Was Mr Segundus disgusted by his discovery? Did he feel revulsion when lying in such a place? Were his thoughts toward Childermass filled with disapproval or, perhaps, with pity? Bless me; if you think that then you have not been paying attention in this tale at all! Mr Segundus did not feel or think any of these things.

Did Mr Segundus feel lust, therefore? Was he filled with a deep aching? With a longing to perform many carnal and unnatural acts? Well, you will be surprised to know that Mr Segundus did not feel these things either. Certainly, at any other point Mr Segundus would have felt them, but this evening he was too tired and too shocked to do so.

No. Almost all Mr Segundus felt at that moment (aside from him sleepiness and his shock, as I have said) was guilt at intruding upon Childermass' private space. Yet even this guilt was softened by a kind of contentment. It was heartening to realise that whatever sinful actions Mr Segundus performed upon himself, Childermass performed them also. Perhaps, if even Childermass could fall prey to carnal desires (and he so clever and strong!) then Mr Segundus was not so very weak after all.

But Mr Segundus' contentment was not born from relief alone. His lust was blunted by his tiredness, to be sure, but that did not mean that he could not appreciate the thought of Childermass lying there in that bed and doing those things he did: of Childermass gasping and trembling etc. etc. It was pleasant, all in all, to consider Childermass' own lust, Childermass' warmth, and Childermass' pleasure. And indeed the bed was warm, and as comfortable as it ever was.

Thus, in Mr Segundus' tired and weakened state, he had no energy for conversation. He certainly did not have the energy to look overlong at Childermass and the pink of his cheeks. In that moment Mr Segundus was good for one thing only, and that was to go to sleep. As soon as Mr Segundus entered the warmth of the bed, therefore, he wrapped his dressing gown further around himself, wished Childermass a good night and closed his eyes.

Childermass wished Mr Segundus a good night in return, but there was no movement in the mattress to indicate that Childermass had lain down also. Perhaps Childermass was not as tired as Mr Segundus and so meant instead to sit and read for a time before sleeping.

Mr Segundus fancied that this should have made him feel even more guilty for being a neglectful companion. "Oh," thought he. "I am too aware of everything! There is so much to think about (and to feel guilty about) that I can hardly make sense of it all! I imagine it will be many hours before I am able to return to sleep." But even as Mr Segundus was thinking these things his mind was falling away, and soon he was ensconced in the depths of slumber.

When did Childermass lie down and go to sleep himself? Mr Segundus did not know. When did the fire burn itself out? Mr Segundus did not know. When did the wind pick up and the snow begin to fall again? None of these things did Mr Segundus notice; he was far too deep asleep.

Is it any wonder that Mr Segundus slept soundly? Over the past two nights he had been so worried about drawing close to Childermass in the bed that he had slept very fitfully indeed. But a man can only avoid sleep for so long before sleep itself returns and takes what it is owed.

After Mr Segundus had been asleep for, oh, some good number of hours, he started dreaming. What dreams were these? Well, they were all in a jumble and there was not one coherent thought among them: there was Mrs Bull's mug of porter and there was Childermass performing magic with those lengths of cord; there was Mr Segundus on the floor in his cold room, straining to do what he should not, and there was Childermass with his flushed face and warm bed and growling voice, "John, John, John." Oh, and then there were many more images after that, and all of them so lewd, despite their disjointed nature, that it is perhaps best not to discuss them here but instead to leave them to your imagination.

Indeed, Mr Segundus' sleep was so deep and so full of dreams that he did not even wake when the temperature grew cold.

Oh, but perhaps that should tell us something, for has this not happened before?

You see, the reason Mr Segundus did not feel the cold was not because of the dressing gown and stockings he wore (or, at least, these were only partially responsible). Rather, Mr Segundus did not feel the cold because, deep in sleep as he was, he had migrated over to Childermass' side of the bed and had tucked himself up beside him.

"John," said the Childermass in Mr Segundus' dream. "John! John!" And Mr Segundus woke up.

For a few blissful moments, in the darkness of the bed, Mr Segundus did nothing more than burrow closer to Childermass and the warmth of him. However, Mr Segundus soon woke more fully and realised where he was and what he was about. And, more importantly, he realised what certain parts of his body were doing, for his private piece was once again hard and pressing against Childermass' person.

The noise of dismay that Mr Segundus made at this discovery sounded, perhaps, more like a sob than anything else.

Unfortunately, such a noise had the effect of waking up Childermass (who had, until that moment, been asleep); Mr Segundus felt Childermass shift beside him.

"Hmh?" Childermass asked.

Poor Mr Segundus was too disappointed in himself to feel the same shock that he had felt two days previously. Instead, he merely let out another unhappy noise and pushed himself away from Childermass and back over to his own, cold, side of the bed. "I am sorry," said Mr Segundus. "I am sorry again, Mr Childermass. Oh!"

Childermass yawned and said thickly, "What is it?"

"I am not fit to share a bed with anyone," declared Mr Segundus, "for it seems my private parts are determined to betray me at every shameful turn!"

"Oh," said Childermass, and the mattress shifted as if he were stretching. "That again? Would you like me to leave the room so that you may take care of it?"

Mr Segundus' eyes widened, though this did not help him see anything more . "No!" he gasped. "My goodness! No, Mr Childermass. I do not...! Though it is thoughtful of you to offer, but I would not dream of..."

"You are certain?" asked Childermass, and he yawned again. "I do not mind taking a turn about the house for a while. As I said last night: if you wish for a respite from your desires, it is an effective cure."

Poor Mr Segundus felt as if his face had turned very red. "No, Mr Childermass," he said. "Thank you, but... Well. I am sorry to prove you wrong, but I may tell you already that it does not work (or it has not worked for me, at any rate)."

At this, Childermass went still and quiet. "Oh?" said he at last. "Has it not? You mean that you have tried my advice? When you dressed for bed you...?"

"Oh! No!" countered Mr Segundus. "No, Mr Childermass! Not... I mean... Not then." He coughed. "I mean: before dinner." (And it was only when he had made this clarification that Mr Segundus realised that it sounded no better, and perhaps even worse.)

"In the library?" asked Childermass, sounding rather surprised.

Poor Mr Segundus felt as if his face might burn a hole through the bolster. "No no," he declared. "I would never dream of... Oh! No! I merely... Well... I returned to my room briefly and... and..." He huffed. "And yet it hasn't worked and here I am troubling you again!"

"Ah," said Childermass. After a moment he continued: "Well, there is your problem, Mr Segundus. It was too long ago. How many hours has it been since we had dinner?"

"I... I..." Mr Segundus stopped and considered it. He cleared his throat. "You mean," said he, "that I should have... have... I _should have_ more recently than that?"

"Mm. I would imagine so," agreed Childermass. He took an audible breath. "Though perhaps you find it normally sates you for a longer period of time. Do you often practice such an act before dinner, sir? If so, how long do you normally find it takes before you are troubled by carnal thoughts again?"

"I...! No! Oh, Mr Childermass, you misunderstand!" protested Mr Segundus, feeling that he must set things to rights before Childermass thought even worse of him. "It is not normal for me before dinner at all. Did you think that I...? Every day when we have been working together? That I might slip away and...? Oh, no, sir! Not at all!"

Childermass laughed at this, long and low. "Very well," said he. "If you normally abstain from the practice, then I can see how you..."

"Ah." Mr Segundus interrupted him. "I am sorry, Mr Childermass, but I would not have you think better of me than I am either." He felt the heat once more rising to his face as he admitted, "Unfortunately, abstinence is beyond me. I am not a strong man."

For a short while Childermass was silent. "You think yourself weak," he said eventually.

"Yes; of course," replied Mr Segundus, adamant. "I cannot avoid doing what I know I should not."

"And you are quite sure that you should not do it? That it... (Forgive me, I cannot speak around the subject any longer without naming it.) That _onanism_ is something a man should not practice?"

Oh, the shock at finally having it named! "I... I..." said Mr Segundus. "Of course not! It is a sinful thing, Mr Childermass; is it not?"

Childermass hummed as if he were thinking.

Mr Segundus found this a very curious response. "You do not think so?"

"I think," said Childermass after a moment, "that there are many sinful things in this world, Mr Segundus, and that they are not all of them equal: some are greater and some are lesser. Onanism (if a sin it must be) is surely one of the lesser."

"But I do not wish to be sinful in any way," protested Mr Segundus, "whether it be a lesser sin or no."

Childermass laughed again and shifted in the bed. "No," he agreed, with a softness to his voice. "I can imagine that you do not."

Poor Mr Segundus did not know what to say to this at all. (To be treated as if wanting to live an honest life were something peculiar and quaint, rather than something that, surely, most people strove for!) And so Mr Segundus was silent.

Childermass, it seems, however, had more to say: "I have done many sinful things, Mr Segundus," said he, "throughout my life (from my very first years right up until I have become the old man you share a bed with now). And while, perhaps, I may have been a little more wicked, and my soul may be a little blacker than most, I know that anyone in any life will have done their own share of sinful things."

Mr Segundus found this a rather surprising admission, and not a very accurate one either. "I do not think you so very wicked," he said. "Or so very old. Please be fair to yourself, Mr Childermass."

This, however, earned only a chuckle from Childermass. "The point I make, sir, is that no man's soul is spotless. To live is to sin (and to sin many times, at that); the two are intertwined and impossible to separate. Thus," said he, "as I know I cannot avoid doing wrong, I instead do only what I can, which is to ensure that when I err it is only in the minor ways and not the major. (And of all the sinful things I have done, I would count onanism among the least significant.)"

"You think it unavoidable, then?" asked Mr Segundus. "No-one can live a spotless life?"

"I know it to be so," returned Childermass, shifting in the bed once more. "Why, are you able to avoid doing what you should not?"

"Oh, no," agreed Mr Segundus. "Not at all. I do desire to live well, you must understand, but..."

"There you have it, then," said Childermass, sounding rather satisfied with this answer.

Mr Segundus paused. "And so," he hazarded after a moment. "And so, Mr Childermass, because you know you are unable to avoid sin altogether, you are not so troubled by guilt over the lesser things?"

"Precisely," returned Childermass.

"But..." continued Mr Segundus. "Forgive me. But, how can you be certain that onanism is a minor sin and not a major?"

Childermass huffed. "Well," said he, "that is very simple, is it not? Consider, Mr Segundus: onanism is an act in which you hurt no-one, you inconvenience no-one, you deprive no-one..."

"Oh," interrupted Mr Segundus. "But that is not entirely true, sir; you must admit that. What of all the children you deprive the world of, because you do not put your seed to its proper use?"

Here, Childermass laughed heartily. "That supposes," said he, still chuckling, "that one is married and in a position to have children at all: a state I do not plan to find myself in. Why, do you intend to get married, Mr Segundus?"

Poor Mr Segundus felt his cheeks heating again. "No. That is... It is a worthy calling on all accounts. Very worthy. But I... Well, I doubt I would make a very good husband."

Childermass laughed again. "Then, sir," said he, "through onanism you deprive the world of nothing more than you deprive it of in any case."

Mr Segundus considered this, and came to an unwelcome (though unsurprising) conclusion. "You think it best I get married?"

Childermass chuckled some more. "I say no such thing, Mr Segundus." He shifted in the bed again. "I mean only that I do not believe that anyone (and especially not you) should feel too much guilt over the practice of onanism. It harms no-one and feels only good."

This allusion to how the practice felt did not help Mr Segundus' embarrassment, nor did it help his private parts, which, I must admit, had remained somewhat interested throughout the whole conversation and were now rather keen to consider Childermass' enjoyment of of the act in more detail.

Mr Segundus took a deep breath and let it out. "I am a weak man," said he. "That fact will not change. But I do admit that your reasoning sounds sensible (as is your reasoning in all things, sir)."

"Then you wish me to leave you in peace for a moment?" asked Childermass again.

"Oh! No!" said Mr Segundus, feeling yet more embarrassed. "I am quite all right, thank you." (Though, of course, he was no such thing.)

For several moments Childermass was quiet, and Mr Segundus fancied that perhaps the conversation was ended. But then Childermass said, rather softly, "You do not like to practice the act in bed, perhaps? You prefer some other method."

"Ah." Mr Segundus coughed. "No, no." He felt hot from his forehead down to his shoulders to discuss it so, but he could not bear to lie to Childermass; not after Childermass had been kind enough to be so frank with him. "You are wrong, Mr Childermass," said Mr Segundus. "I am quite happy to practice in bed. Indeed I... I... Often the time when I wake in the mornings is the time when I am at my weakest." He coughed again, and clarified quickly, "But I do not mean when I share your bed, sir! Oh! No! That would be very impolite of me."

"Even when I have said I do not mind?" countered Childermass.

Poor Mr Segundus felt his face very red to hear this (and his private piece rather hard too), but before he could make a reply, Childermass was speaking once more:

"I use the bed in that way myself, Mr Segundus, so I do not mind if you do also." Childermass huffed. "But if you say you do not wish to, then so it shall be." He was silent for a moment, then added in an amused tone, "Perhaps if I had asked in the morning, your answer would be different." The mattress shifted and Childermass sighed. "For myself, I prefer to practice the act in the evening, when I am tired, I suppose, and lulled by the dark of the night."

And was this not a fact that, by now, Mr Segundus well knew? Oh, Mr Segundus felt hot down to his fingertips! But he continued on in his frankness nevertheless: "I often find I am too tired in the evening," he admitted. "Whereas in the morning... I do not know, but perhaps it is because I am still in the process of waking and so do not have all my wits about me. But in the morning I often feel that when I wake I... Before I even know what I am about, I find I have started and do not care to stop."

At this, Childermass remained silent. Whyfor? Mr Segundus could easily guess at what Childermass was thinking.

"Oh!" continued Mr Segundus, hurriedly clarifying, "but as I have said: not in your bed, Mr Childermass! I know you say you would not mind it, but I would not like to...!" How very red Mr Segundus felt! "Oh, I only mean when I am alone in my own bed, Mr Childermass; then I am as weak as may be. But while we have been sharing a bed, you may rest assured that I have lapsed only the once, and that was today before dinner (and in my own room) as I told you."

Childermass continued on silent, but finally (and with his voice rather soft) he said, "Then no wonder you are affected so often, Mr Segundus, if you have abstained for so many days." He sighed. "You have a strength of will that I do not share; I cannot deprive myself for so long. And indeed," said he, "I cannot deprive myself now." The mattress dipped, as if he were sitting up. "You do not wish me to leave you for your own purposes, sir, but now I must leave you for mine." Childermass gave a low chuckle, which was followed by the sound of the bed-curtains opening. "So perhaps my advice to you last night was not so useful after all; for I have taken it this evening before bed, but now I find myself compromised once more." A floorboard creaked. "I shall not be long."

Oh! Oh! Mr Segundus found himself sitting up and calling out into the darkness. "Wait! Wait, Mr Childermass! Where do you go? You cannot go!"

At this, there came the sound of Childermass clearing his throat. "Forgive me," said he. "But if I do not leave to see to myself, I will not sleep the whole night." He huffed. "If you wish to abstain, Mr Segundus, that is your own choice, but you must allow me to make mine. I bid you goodnight."

"Oh! No!" cried Mr Segundus. "I did not mean! Oh, I am sorry," he said. "Please do not think that I am trying to deprive you. Whatever you wish to do, you must." Mr Segundus licked his lips. "I mean only that I cannot allow you to leave your comfortable bed to do it; not when you had offered to leave for my sake before." Here Mr Segundus paused, for he almost found himself overtaken by the thought of what Childermass meant to do, of Childermass' current state and, indeed, of precisely which parts of the conversation had led to Childermass' current state. Oh Lord! "If anyone must leave the room, it will be me, Mr Childermass. After all, I am the one imposing in your bed."

"You are not imposing, Mr Segundus," said Childermass.

"But still," replied Mr Segundus. "It is cold outside this room, and there is no need for you to suffer that." He groped out with his arms and clumsily opened the bed-curtains on his side of the bed. "I will go, and leave you some goodly amount of time to do whatever needs to be done, and then I shall return."

"No," said Childermass simply. "I will not allow that. You will not sit out in the cold merely so that I may indulge myself. _I_ will go, sir. Do not think me so very troubled at the thought of it."

Mr Segundus looked out into the darkness of the room. "But why should you be the one to suffer from the cold and not I?" retorted he. "I do not wish to drive you from your own bed and into discomfort, Mr Childermass. After all," said Mr Segundus, "where will you go? You will not find anywhere warm enough."

"I could ask you the same question," returned Childermass. "If you were the one to leave, where would you go? Would you leave here to go shiver beside the empty fireplace in your own room?" Childermass snorted. "I won't have it. You know you feel the cold more readily than I, sir."

"Yes," replied Mr Segundus, "but that doesn't mean that you do not feel the cold at all."

At this, Childermass gave a deep, almost-despairing laugh. "Trust me, Mr Segundus; I do not imagine I will notice the cold for very long."

Oh! Oh! Can you imagine how red Mr Segundus felt at that statement? (And, besides, how hard his private member? It was true that Mr Segundus did not fancy wandering the corridors in such a state, but the thought of selfishly driving Childermass from his bed was far more abhorrent.)

Yet, Mr Segundus, in his embarrassment (and his lust), had not answered Childermass' statement, and it seems that Childermass took this as a victory. "I will be going then, Mr Segundus." Another floorboard creaked. "I shall not be lo..."

"No, Mr Childermass," said Mr Segundus. "No. I will not have it." He stood from the bed (how cold it was as his stockings slipped down to his ankles!) and he looked out into the dark of the room, trying to perceive where Childermass stood. "I will not force you from your bed," declared Mr Segundus. "And besides, it is no trouble for me to go."

"Mr Segundus," said Childermass, sounding now rather frustrated. "Please. I must go, and now. If I leave it any longer, I swear I will go mad."

Oh, poor Mr Segundus felt his knees turn rather weak! (It was a miracle that he remained standing.) "Then you must let _me_ go," returned Mr Segundus, fancying that his voice sounded rather shaky. "Let me go and you shall have to wait no longer."

Childermass huffed, though it was rather a growling sort of a noise. "But I will not have you inconvenienced for my sake, sir."

"And I shall not have you inconvenienced for _mine_ ," countered Mr Segundus.

Childermass sighed noisily. "Well this is a pretty stalemate we find ourselves in," said he. "And not one I wish to stay in for any longer." He huffed again. "You will not have me leave, and I will not have _you_ leave. But one of us must go, for I do not wish to abstain, and the only other option is for me to perform my task with the both of us here and (while I would have no particular objection to that myself) I know that that is not what you would wish for, sir."

Now Mr Segundus' knees truly did give way, and he sat down heavily upon the bed.

Childermass, it seems, accepted this movement as a sign of surrender from Mr Segundus. "There now," said Childermass. "I will go and..."

"No," said Mr Segundus, rather dazedly. "No no. I think you have hit upon it, Mr Childermass. If you will not mind the both of us remaining here in the bed, then I shall not either. After all, this way neither of us shall be inconvenienced. (For I will not be inconvenienced at all; I am so very tired that I am certain I will fall asleep straight away.) Thus, if I will be no bother to you, Mr Childermass, then you may rest assured that you shall be no bother to me." And, feeling weak all over, Mr Segundus climbed meekly back into bed.

Childermass was entirely silent. Eventually, he said, "You truly do not mind?"

"Truly," replied Mr Segundus as he was busy in the process of closing the bed-curtains upon his side of the bed, adjusting his stockings and dressing gown, and settling his head upon the bolster. "Truly," repeated Mr Segundus. "And this way we shall both remain warm and comfortable. Goodnight, sir."

There came the sound of Childermass taking a breath and letting it out again. "Goodnight," he said in return. This was followed by the creak of footsteps returning to the bed, a dip in the mattress as Childermass sat down, and the sound of the bed-curtains being closed. The blankets then shifted, as if Childermass had just climbed beneath them and lain back down.

Oh, Mr Segundus! What caused this response? Did he honestly think that he would fall asleep so easily? Perhaps he did think so. He was, after all, still weary. Perhaps he truly believed that he would be able to will himself to slumber. Or perhaps he only wished for Childermass not to be inconvenienced, and this was the only way he knew how. Were there any other reasons as to why Mr Segundus might have acquiesced to such a suggestion? And if so, did Mr Segundus admit those reasons to himself? Ah. That is only something that Mr Segundus knew.

Thus what happened next? Well, for the longest time all was still and quiet. Indeed, the silence lasted for so long that Mr Segundus fancied that perhaps Childermass had given up on the idea and had fallen asleep himself.

Mr Segundus was having no such luck. He might have felt weary, but he was also, exhaustingly, awake. Indeed, would it ever have been possible for Mr Segundus to sleep when his private piece was as hard as it was? For, as I have said, Mr Segundus had been mostly hard for the entirety of their conversation that night; and when Childermass had admitted to an equal hardness in himself? Oh, I am sure it is quite easy for you to imagine just how Mr Segundus' private parts responded to that.

And so Mr Segundus lay there in silence, urging himself to calm down and fall asleep. Yet, for all that he felt well and truly awake, perhaps Mr Segundus did finally start to fall asleep a little after all. You see, without Mr Segundus realising it, a kind of haze had descended over him, so that it was only after a long time that he became aware of a slight shifting in the blankets. But it was no wonder that Mr Segundus did not notice it at first, for it was the smallest, most insignificant of movements: just a slight, rhythmic rising and falling of the blankets upon the bed.

Suddenly Mr Segundus was wide awake again in an instant.

You will not need me to tell you what this movement heralded. (And, besides, had not Childermass clearly proclaimed his intentions?) In something of a panic, Mr Segundus willed himself to ignore that shifting in the blankets and fall asleep.

Goodness me. Is it any surprise that Mr Segundus' attempts did not work?

Instead, as Mr Segundus lay there, he found himself concentrating upon the movement of the blankets, feeling every slight shift and his heart leaping every time the movements (for whatever reason) paused or hesitated.

Good Lord. Perhaps you will not need me to tell you that, at that moment, Mr Segundus found himself harder, and his body more aroused, than he had ever known.

Oh, but what guilt Mr Segundus felt also! He knew that he should not be paying attention to Childermass' actions, and that he certainly should not be deriving any enjoyment from the undertaking. Had he not told Childermass that he meant to fall asleep? But Mr Segundus had lied, it seems (and wickedly so), for neither did he sleep nor did he give Childermass the privacy he deserved.

Thus Mr Segundus lay there, awake, and the slight movement in the blankets continued. For a long time (or, at least, what felt like a long time in the racing of Mr Segundus' heart) this was all that occurred; there were no noises nor any other movements. Yet, eventually (and, oh, how Mr Segundus strained to hear!) there came a soft click, like the noise that comes from a dry throat swallowing or a tongue brushing parted lips.

Soon, also, there came the sound of breathing; not particularly heavy or ragged, you must understand, but merely present.

Oh oh oh! What thoughts, what imaginations, were running through Mr Segundus' mind? That, I cannot tell you, for there were far too many. Oh, how striking, how potent were those small sounds and movements! The act (Childermass' onanism: Childermass' pleasuring of himself) was, in its quietness and unobtrusiveness, utterly unlike anything Mr Segundus had imagined when he had indulged himself earlier in the day. And it was this unexpectedness about it, this _realness_ , that fueled Mr Segundus' lusts far more than anything else could have done.

How hard Mr Segundus was! How it _hurt_ to be so hard! He found he had to bite his lip so that his breathing did not grow louder in tandem with Childermass'. 

For Childermass' breathing was indeed growing louder, and the shifting of the blankets was growing faster also. There came the noise of another swallow.

Oh, it was all Mr Segundus could do to prevent himself from reaching down and touching his own private piece in return! (Though he wanted to. Oh how he wanted to!) Instead Mr Segundus made do with balling his hands into fists and curling his toes.

The noise of Childermass' breathing became unmistakable now, and it was accompanied by another noise, which was the rasping, slightly slick sound of... Oh! Oh! But then, suddenly, Childermass gave out a brief, stifled, choking noise: a ragged inhaling and exhaling. And finally there was silence.

Ah. Ah. How Mr Segundus' lusts increased as (the silence, continuing on) he realised what had just happened!

For a moment all was still and quiet (with Mr Segundus, meanwhile, still clenching his fists and biting his lip).

But then there was movement (a much greater movement than before) and Mr Segundus realised that the blankets of the bed had been thrown back. There came the noise of the bed-curtains opening and the mattress dipped as Childermass stood.

Oh, poor Mr Segundus, in his guilt and his lust, hoped fervently that Childermass did not mean to light a candle. For what would Childermass find, but his bed-mate wide awake with face flushed and eyes staring and every appearance of having enjoyed, far too much, his illicit eavesdropping?

But Childermass did not light a candle. Instead, there came the creak of floorboards as Childermass slowly crossed the room, followed by a rustling noise as if he had picked up a piece of clothing (or, indeed, a handkerchief). This took only a moment, and soon the noises were repeated in reverse order: creak of floorboards, bed-curtains closing, and the shift in the mattress as Childermass climbed beneath the blankets once more.

Mr Segundus held his breath, for he felt himself to be breathing so loudly that Childermass, now no longer distracted, would realise immediately that Mr Segundus was awake and in a compromised state. Of course, one can only hold one's breath for so long; and besides which, Mr Segundus considered that people who are asleep (as Mr Segundus was meant to be) did not hold their breath in any case. And so Mr Segundus began breathing again, as shallowly and as quietly as possible.

Oh, but Mr Segundus then worried that he was breathing too fast (for who breathes so fast when they are asleep?) Thus Mr Segundus deliberately slowed his breathing. Unfortunately, this slow breathing did not satisfy his body in its agitated state and it was not long before Mr Segundus was forced to take in a large breath, which was altogether louder than he had intended.

Such anxiety in what should be such a simple act! Oh, in what a sorry state Mr Segundus lay! He was wide awake and his private piece was stiff (so very stiff and aching!) and he wanted, more than anything, to dwell upon the events that had just occurred and to touch himself in the process.

But Childermass must not know that Mr Segundus had been awake. Indeed, he must not know that Mr Segundus was still awake now. After all, what would Childermass say when he realised that Mr Segundus had lied to him about falling asleep in order to falsely lure Childermass into such an intimate situation? No! No! No! It was vital that, to all intents and purposes, Mr Segundus appeared to be asleep. If only Mr Segundus were better at pretending to be so!

And yet, if Mr Segundus was having difficulties sleeping (or pretending to sleep) then perhaps Childermass was suffering from similar difficulties. For, though Childermass had lain down and had remained quiet for the past while, there did not come the sound of the slow, even breathing that usually heralded his sleeping. Was Childermass, despite his recent satisfaction (oh! oh! to think of it!) wide awake also?

Well, no matter how wide awake (or, for that matter, how hard) one is, when it is the middle of the night one will eventually fall asleep again. This Mr Segundus must have done, and he must have slept soundly too, for when he woke again it was of a sudden morning and there was sunlight filtering through the bed-curtains.

However, just because Mr Segundus had slept did not mean that he had been freed from his other bodily affliction (that is to say: the hardness of his private member), for when Mr Segundus awoke he found that he was just as hard as he had been when he had fallen asleep. (And Mr Segundus realised this chiefly because he had woken to the pleasant sensation of his having rolled onto his stomach and lazily pressed his private piece down into the mattress.)

With a sharp inhale, Mr Segundus remembered where he was (viz. not in his own bed) and he rolled back onto his side to prevent any further mischief. Feeling then rather guilty, he opened his eyes to see if Childermass were awake and had noticed Mr Segundus' movements.

Yet what greeted Mr Segundus was a surprise, for he found that Childermass was not present.

This must have been something of a relief for Mr Segundus, as now there was no immediate fear of Childermass discovering his arousal. (And yet why did Mr Segundus feel oddly disappointed to be so alone?)

Frowning, Mr Segundus moved to the edge of the bed and (carefully, so as not to have his hardness show beneath the blankets) peered out of the bed-curtains.

In the room without, Childermass was nowhere to be seen.

Frowning yet more, Mr Segundus moved to the other side of the bed and then peered out of those bed-curtains, but Childermass was not on that side of the room either!

Thus, growing bolder, Mr Segundus climbed out of bed altogether and walked around the room to confirm that Childermass was not there at all (and that neither were Childermass' clothes).

It seems, then, that Childermass had already woken and had dressed and left the room. Was he full of shame from the events of the night? Or was he merely disappointed in Mr Segundus and no longer wished to be in his presence? Or, as was suggested by the whiteness of the logs upon the merry fire, had Mr Segundus, in his tiredness, slept for so long that it was late and Childermass had found that he would rather go about his business than wait any longer?

Whatever the reason, I am sorry to say that while Mr Segundus felt both concerned and disappointed, a sly part of his mind was also rather happy to find himself without company. "Why," it said, "do I not now have an opportunity to take care of the lusts that have plagued me for so many hours?"

We should not, perhaps, be surprised at what happened next, for had not Mr Segundus admitted that he was most susceptible to temptation in the mornings? Thus it was that Mr Segundus took off his dressing gown and his stockings, climbed back into the bed (shutting the bed-curtains behind him), and pulled up his nightshirt to take his private piece (still hard) in his hand.

Ah. Oh! The sinful sweetness of it! Mr Segundus had wanted this for _so long_. Oh, but perhaps it was not so sinful after all. Was that not what Childermass had explained so eloquently in the night? Perhaps there was nothing so much wrong in the act, for it harmed no-one and felt only good.

Oh, but who is to say that no-one was being harmed? Was not Mr Segundus at that moment in Childermass' bed, sullying it with his actions? He did not have Childermass' consent to do so, and he did not mean to tell Childermass about it either. It was (as it always was when Mr Segundus conducted these things) furtive and illicit and wrong.

And yet one may understand, rationally, the wrongness of something and one may do it anyway. One may know that one should not perform the act of onanism in another's bed and yet one may still perform it. Indeed, one may take great joy in thinking of the other's presence, of their own use of the bed in a similar way. And ah! ah! did not the bedclothes still smell of Childermass? Were they not still rumpled from where Childermass' body had lain not so long ago; from where Childermass had touched his own private parts and, straining, reached his end? And had not Mr Segundus heard that very moment of Childermass' completion? Had Mr Segundus not been in earshot throughout the whole process? Had he not felt the blankets move with the movement of Childermass' hands? Had Mr Segundus not been so close that, had he dared, he could have reached out and brushed Childermass' hot skin?

Lord in heaven! Mr Segundus' climax came upon him in a rush, in an unstoppable wave, and it was all he could do to frantically cup his hand over the head of his private member so that his seed did not shoot out everywhere and make a mess of the sheets.

The guilt that Mr Segundus felt then was immediate and forceful. No matter what sweet words Childermass had said in favour of onanism, to do so in Childermass' own bed! No. _No._ It was wrong. It was oh so very wrong!

Hastily, Mr Segundus climbed from the bed, rummaged in the pocket of his discarded dressing gown, and cleaned off his hands with his handkerchief. It was only the knowledge that his face must be very red that stopped Mr Segundus from running away to his own room then and there.

As it was, Mr Segundus returned to Childermass' bed and lay there until he felt that his body had calmed down. When, finally, it seemed that remaining there further would do no more good, Mr Segundus rose and (attempting to imitate the air of one who had only just woken) put on his stockings, slippers and dressing gown, took up his candle, and fled for his own room as fast as his feet could carry him.


	6. Chapter 6

That morning, fancying that the hour was rather late, Mr Segundus washed his face and shaved hurriedly, and dressed even more hurriedly still. Indeed, his neckcloth that day appeared rather more lopsided than otherwise and he was still pulling on his coat as he left his room to head to breakfast.

In the little drawing room the lateness of the hour was confirmed when Mr Segundus arrived to find that both Vinculus and Childermass were present and that while Vinculus was still eating (and from the crumbs on his plate, it appeared that he had eaten a good deal already) Childermass was sitting back and drinking a cup of coffee, seemingly having seen his breakfast to its conclusion.

Mr Segundus flushed to see them both. (And whether this flush were due to a guilt felt at his tardiness or a guilt felt for other things, and those things that had occurred in Childermass' bed in particular, I shall let you decide for yourself.)

"Ah," said Mr Segundus, hurrying over to the empty place at the table and sitting down. "Good morning, Mr Childermass, Vinculus. I must apologise for being so late. I... Ah. It appears I overslept."

Childermass gave Mr Segundus a long look (indeed, it was so long that Mr Segundus found he could not bear to hold Childermass' eye for all of it). Then Childermass took a sip of his coffee and said, "You were sleeping very soundly when I woke this morning."

Mr Segundus cleared his throat. "Yes," said he. "I am sorry. It seems that I was more tired than I realised last night."

At this, Childermass gave Mr Segundus another look, and Vinculus made a noise which sounded very much like a laugh, but when Mr Segundus turned to him, Vinculus appeared to have his attention fully engaged upon placing a great slice of ham and a good deal of butter between the cut halves of a bread roll.

Mr Segundus flushed anyway and busied himself with filling his plate and asking Sally, the parlourmaid, for a fresh pot of coffee. (And so busy was Mr Segundus in this endeavour, that he most certainly didn't notice whether or not Childermass might be looking at him further, and neither did he in any way consider what Childermass might be thinking.)

And what was Mr Segundus himself thinking throughout all of this? Well, I am not certain he knew; his mind was all a-jumble of so many things. Firstly, there was an amount of panicking over his actions that morning (that is to say: his onanism) and whether Childermass and Vinculus had somehow been able to divine what he had done. (And, oh! To think of their censure!)

Secondly, there was an even greater amount of panicking over Childermass' actions the night before (that is to say: _Childermass'_ onanism). Had Childermass realised that Mr Segundus had been listening? Was Childermass angry that Mr Segundus had lured him into such a delicate situation for Mr Segundus' own sordid ends? (For surely that is what had happened.) Oh! Mr Segundus could not bear to think of what had occurred! The shifting of the bedclothes and the soft, ragged breath that had accompanied Childermass' end! Or the even sharper memory of Mr Segundus running Childermass' completion through his mind as Mr Segundus, trembling that morning, had reached his own!

And tumbling about all these thoughts was a desperate determination to look as if this were any other morning and that nothing unusual whatsoever had happened.

Thankfully, this last looked to be assisted by Mrs Bull, the housekeeper, as she was then entering the room with the coffeepot.

"Why, Mr Segundus!" said she, pouring Mr Segundus a cup of coffee and handing it to him. "It is not like you to sleep so late! Oh, but I am glad, for you look ever so much better for it. The colour in your cheeks has quite returned. Does he not look better, Mr Childermass?" she asked, turning to that man.

Childermass, giving Mr Segundus an appraising glance, agreed.

Needless to say, the colour in Mr Segundus' cheeks returned yet more forcefully than before. "I did not mean to sleep for quite so long," mumbled he, affecting to busy himself with his breakfast.

"Oh, you need not worry about it, sir," returned Mrs Bull. "It is no surprise that you slept well; not with a night like _that_."

Poor Mr Segundus, who was at that moment buttering a bread roll, jolted so hard that he nearly buttered his sleeve instead. "I... I beg your pardon?" he asked, while carefully putting the butter-knife down to avoid further mischief.

"Why, with the weather growing so much warmer," clarified Mrs Bull. "Certainly, for the first half of the night it continued on cold, but then the temperature grew to be much more comfortable; did you not think?" She bobbed a curtsey. "Certainly, it is still by no means pleasant (oh, that I would be able to stop sharing a bed with one who snores so!) but there has been a most definite change for the better."

Vinculus snorted. "Mr Segundus will know all about that," said he, "for this warmth is all _their_ fault." And Vinculus gave Mr Segundus and Childermass a look which suggested that Vinculus was not at all happy with the turn the weather had taken.

Childermass raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner.

"They have been casting spells to make it warmer," clarified Vinculus.

"Oh, that is thoughtful of you, sir." Mrs Bull curtseyed at Mr Segundus again. "That is very thoughtful of you. Though, might I request that you make it even warmer still? For, you see, I must still share a bed with Mrs Hitchin in this weather, whereas if it were yet warmer, we could all sleep in our own beds and be much the better for it."

Mr Segundus shook his head. "Forgive me, Mrs Bull, but this was not our doing." Then, frowning, he turned to Childermass. "Unless you were responsible, Mr Childermass?"

Childermass smiled at Mr Segundus then turned his smile upon Mrs Bull. "It is true that we have been searching for a spell for warmth, Mrs Bull, but we have had, I am sorry to say, no luck whatsoever. Any comfort you feel now is due to the leniency of nature only."

"Oh," said Mr Bull. She put the coffeepot down upon the table. "It is good of you to try, I suppose." And with a rather despondent air, she curtsied and left the room.

"Well." Vinculus huffed. "It is not so warm yet. I do not think I will be able to sleep without my two bottles of porter." He gave Mr Segundus a look. "You do understand, sir, that I will not be able to sleep without my two bottles of porter?"

"Oh yes," replied Mr Segundus, absently. "You will still have them." He chewed thoughtfully upon his unevenly-buttered bread.

Why such thoughtfulness? Well, not once in all the morning had Mr Segundus noticed the change in temperature, but now that it had been made known to him, he realised that Mrs Bull was quite correct. It _was_ warmer. Indeed, had not Mr Segundus been happy to remove his dressing gown and stockings to perform his sordid business in Childermass' bed? (Yes he had.) And had not Mr Segundus been happy to leave his bedroom while still only half in his coat? (Yes he had also.) He looked to the window. The garden was, to be sure, still covered in snow, but there was certainly less frost upon the windowpanes than there had been the previous day.

At last! What Mr Segundus had longed for these past few days had finally come to pass: the weather had turned. Why, if he and Childermass were successful in finding a spell for warmth that day, then the whole household would most certainly be able to return to sleeping in their own beds that night and need disturb each other no further.

After some time of this thoughtful silence, Mr Segundus finally said, "Mr Childermass, it seems to me to be warm enough that we might return to studying the writing upon Vinculus, if we allow him to sit beside the fire." He looked to Childermass. "What is your opinion? For, though I do of course wish for the household to grow comfortable, we have had so little success with a spell for warmth that it seems our time would be better spent upon the King's book."

Childermass paused in the process of refilling his coffee-cup. He sniffed and put the coffeepot down. "You are right, Mr Segundus," said he after a moment. "It has been too long since Vinculus has earned his keep." Then, without stopping to take a sip of his fresh coffee, Childermass stood and moved his chair so that it was directly in front of the fire. "Come, Vinculus," he ordered, "over here with you."

Vinculus sighed in a very put-upon way. "Consider," said he, "Mr Segundus; you surely do not wish to give up on your researches when you were doubtless so close to finding a spell for warmth? Why, how Mrs Bull and the rest of the household will be thankful that you are thinking of their comfort!"

Mr Segundus hesitated, for Vinculus made a good point. (And besides, Mr Segundus was aware of just how wrong his motivation for relinquishing the search for warmth truly was.)

But Childermass scoffed before Mr Segundus had a chance to change his mind. "Nature is already doing what we could not," said Childermass. "She shall make it warmer regardless of our efforts, so we would do well not to waste them. Now come here, Vinculus, or you shall see no porter tonight (for you would be so warm if we left you to continue sleeping the day away in the kitchen, that you would not need any).

Vinculus sighed again, but did as he was told and moved to sit beside the fire (even if he gave Childermass a great leer as he did so).

"Shirt off," ordered Childermass. Then, as Vinculus was busy undressing, Childermass looked to Mr Segundus and said, "Do not let us disturb your breakfast, sir. Take your time; you may join us when you are ready." And yet it was odd, for while this was a very simple thing to say, the look that Childermass gave Mr Segundus as he said it was not simple at all. This look seemed to have a great deal of curiosity in it, as if Childermass found the question of how Mr Segundus might take the rest of his breakfast to be a very interesting one. (Though how there can be that much of interest in a breakfast, I do not know.)

So it was that Childermass fell to studying the text to be found upon Vinculus' right arm and Mr Segundus, when his breakfast was at last completed, joined them.

I need not recount the rest of their day to you, for it was much the same as any day when they took to studying the writing upon Vinculus. Mr Segundus and Childermass transcribed the marks upon Vinculus' skin, discussed them very much, and compared them with transcriptions from other parts of Vinculus' body all the while. Vinculus, for his part, groused and grumbled and twisted and turned and often got up to walk about the room. He also ate and drank when he was provided with the opportunity, and then dropped his head back in the chair and snored when he had had his fill of all these other occupations.

Well, I say that this was like any day and, on the face of it, it was. But I must tell you that such a summary does not account for Mr Segundus' unsettled state of mind.

As the time wore on, Mr Segundus grew less worried of Childermass' and Vinculus' censure, for while Mr Segundus was not sure if they had guessed why he was so late coming down to breakfast, they had not reproached him in any way for it. Oh, if only that had been all! But it was not.

You see, the less worried Mr Segundus grew about what his companions thought of him, the more Mr Segundus' mind seemed to take this as licence to dwell upon what he should not (that is to say: upon Childermass' actions during the night). My word, what terrible temptation!

Near every time Mr Segundus spoke to Childermass, Mr Segundus found himself thinking of their frank conversation in the night, of Childermass' persuasive words in favour of onanism, and of the tantalising fact that this conversation had driven Childermass' body to excitement. And near every time Mr Segundus looked at Childermass (indeed, even some times when Mr Segundus looked at Vinculus' naked skin), Mr Segundus found himself thinking of what Childermass had done thereafter.

Lord above! Childermass had touched himself in Mr Segundus' presence (due to Mr Segundus' lying to him about sleeping, which Mr Segundus still felt guilty for); Childermass had taken his own private parts in hand and had driven himself to completion. The sound of Childermass' breathing! The rising and falling of the bedclothes! The soft stilted noise as (Mr Segundus imagined) Childermass had ecstatically spilled his seed over his fingers; and all in the very bed where Mr Segundus lay!

Poor Mr Segundus, wherever possible, tried to quell these thoughts, for he could not dare allow his private piece to grow hard in such a public place. It was, however, difficult to quell them completely; not when Childermass was beside him, touching Vinculus' skin with his long fingers; or when Childermass was lost in thought, running a hand through his ragged hair; or worse, when Childermass took to pacing the room, so that Mr Segundus was treated to the full sight of the shape of him, clothed though he was.

Yet perhaps all this may have been easy to bear. Why, had not Mr Segundus suffered from unwanted thoughts about Childermass a thousand times before when they were working together? (Of course he had; loathe though he may have been to admit it). Therefore, while these thoughts did not leave Mr Segundus fully comfortable, they did not cause him too much anxiety.

No. If this had been all, then Mr Segundus could have been quite calm. But it was not all.

You see, this was not a normal day, because Childermass' behaviour was not entirely normal. Oh, it was not so different as to be very noticeable (not if one was not so attuned to Childermass in that moment as was Mr Segundus), but it was there. And what, pray, you ask, was Childermass doing out of the ordinary? Well, let us observe him:

There he sat, copying down the text upon Vinculus' arm. And there he went to the table for more paper, or more ink, or to consult one of the books that had been brought through from the library. And there he was turning Vinculus' arm over so that it was at an angle more convenient to him. But every now and then, between those actions, he would glance at Mr Segundus. Why, there was a short glance, and there an even longer one, and all with an inscrutable look upon Childermass' face.

Mr Segundus had noticed these glances; sometimes Mr Segundus had caught them out of the corner of his eye, and had looked over to find Childermass turning away; and sometimes Mr Segundus had found Childermass watching him quite openly for several long moments.

What Childermass was thinking, Mr Segundus did not have the faintest idea. Was Childermass considering how guilty Mr Segundus truly was? Was Childermass appalled and merely saving his chastisement until they had some time alone? Or was Childermass thinking of something else entirely? Mr Segundus was at a loss to account for it; all he knew was that the more Childermass looked at him, the more Mr Segundus found the anxiety and tension inside of him winding tighter and tighter. (Indeed, so tense did Mr Segundus feel that once the clock struck three, he declined all further offers of tea or coffee from Mrs Bull and kept himself to small beer for the rest of the day.)

Thus the time passed. Dinner came and went, and supper also. Vinculus was presented once more with his two bottles of porter, and Mr Segundus, feeling rather tired after such an unsettled and confusing day, announced his intention to go to bed. Here Childermass graced Mr Segundus with another look (though this one rather fleeting) and agreed, saying that he would meet Mr Segundus there.

When, finally, Mr Segundus found himself alone (in his room to dress for bed) he was all out of sorts. Certainly he was glad to be alone so that he could consider the events of the day (and indeed the events of the previous night) in more detail, but at the same time he felt rather unsatisfied that he was no longer in the presence of Childermass and Childermass' curious behaviour.

"Well, no matter," said Mr Segundus to himself. "I will see him soon enough once I am ready for bed." (Which thought made Mr Segundus feel rather more agitated than otherwise. As did the thought of what Childermass might be doing at that very moment.)

And so Mr Segundus dressed himself in his nightshirt, nightcap, dressing gown and slippers (his stockings he did not put on, for it felt warm enough to forgo them), then settled down to say his evening prayers. Now, Mr Segundus knew that his prayers that evening ought to contain admissions of and remorse for his onanism that morning, and his sinful thoughts that day, and his wicked eavesdropping upon Childermass the night before, but when he came to it he found that he could only pray for forgiveness in a very jumbled way. You see, Mr Segundus kept being distracted from his task by the memory of his conversation with Childermass the previous night and of Childermass' defence of onanism.

"Indeed," thought Mr Segundus. "Perhaps onanism truly is a lesser sin, as Childermass says, for it harms no-one and feels only good."

Yet this would not do! As I'm sure you'll agree, it is hardly right to ask for forgiveness by justifying one's sins.

Thus Mr Segundus tried once again to feel the humility and guilt that he ought to, but then he grew distracted by wondering what Childermass said in his own prayers (for Mr Segundus was sure that Childermass did not find the process so confused and difficult). Eventually Mr Segundus finished his prayers in but a hazy way, and he rose feeling more unsatisfied than ever.

How frustrating it was to be so unsettled! Mr Segundus at that moment wished he had something with which to ease his spirit (Vinculus' two bottles of porter came to mind), but poor Mr Segundus had nothing of the sort. Thus, with no other option but to make the best of it, he took up his candle and made his way to Childermass' room.

Childermass, when he opened the door upon Mr Segundus' knocking, seemed much as he always was, though perhaps his cheeks were a little darker than usual. Mr Segundus tried hard not to notice this as he thanked Childermass for allowing him to sleep in his room once again and then prepared to climb into bed (which involved Mr Segundus removing his dressing gown as well as his slippers, warm enough as the room was).

Oh! But how difficult it is to not notice something when it has already been noticed! (Indeed, I would go as far as to say it is impossible.) Childermass' cheeks were pink, and the bedclothes were tumbled, and they smelled wonderfully of Childermass himself as Mr Segundus climbed beneath them. (And, indeed, how tumbled had been the bedclothes when Mr Segundus had left them that morning! when Mr Segundus had touched his private parts, wickedly, and thought of everything that he should not.)

Let us not be coy: all Mr Segundus had done was climb into bed and close the bed-curtains behind him, and yet already his private piece was on its way to hardness. (At least it would not be noticed, with he lying on his side.)

Oh, poor Mr Segundus. He had felt agitated when removed from Childermass' presence, whereas now he was in Childermass' presence again he was, unfairly, more agitated still.

Thankfully, in contrast to Mr Segundus' flustered state, Childermass was all calm (even if his cheeks were brighter than usual, as I have said). He climbed into bed, closed the bed-curtains upon his side, then lay down and began asking Mr Segundus about their work upon Vinculus that day.

Mr Segundus was relieved to be given this gesture of normality, and he did his best to discuss the writing upon Vinculus' skin. Yet, as much as Mr Segundus tried, he could only persuade half of his mind to focus upon the topic at hand, and so it was only a little while later that he made his excuses of tiredness and settled down to sleep (on, I must add, very much his own side of the bed).

You will not be surprised, I imagine, to hear that Mr Segundus did not fall asleep immediately. Why, through his mind ran all the agitating thoughts that had occupied him during the day, and every single one of them pertained to Childermass and that very bed. Mr Segundus lay there, unhappily awake, and tried with all his might not to dwell upon Childermass' warmth and Childermass' presence.

Eventually Mr Segundus did fall asleep, but it seems that his unsettled thoughts followed him into slumber, for after a while he began to dream about Childermass. In this dream, Childermass was performing a spell with a candlestick and a length of cord. He and Mr Segundus were both standing in the cold room with the portrait of the girl and the monkey upon the wall, yet somehow they were in bed also; Childermass was laying the length of cord on top of the blankets.

"See here," Childermass was saying to Mr Segundus, "we must use the tip of the candlestick, for that is the most effective part."

Mr Segundus, flushing, agreed with this reasoning.

"Ah, but you must try it yourself," said Childermass. "Feel here." And he took up Mr Segundus' hand and placed it upon the candlestick at the desired spot.

Mr Segundus gasped as his fingers touched the candlestick, the metal warm and hard. "Oh, Mr Childermass!" he cried. "How very warm this candlestick is! I knew we were performing a spell for warmth, yet I did not imagine that it would be quite so warm as this!"

In return, Childermass gave him a smile that was warmer still.

It was at this moment that Mr Segundus woke up, groggily. Around him the room was dark and still, and filled with the deep, even breathing of Childermass in slumber. And it was indeed warm, for once again Mr Segundus found that he had curled close to Childermass in his sleep (this was no longer any surprise). Not only this, but Mr Segundus found that his private piece was hard and pressing against Childermass' person (terrible as it was, this was no great surprise either). However, on this occasion, Mr Segundus discovered yet another detail, which was that Mr Segundus' private piece was not now the only one that was hard (and this was a surprise of some magnitude, but altogether unmistakeable).

So it was that Mr Segundus did not feel the guilt that he had felt on previous nights. Instead he felt the companionship that one feels when one recognises one's own weaknesses in another. He also felt, I must admit, the agitation he had felt before, only in greater force.

For a moment Mr Segundus merely lay there and indulged in the feeling of that private piece pressing against his thigh: warm, as Childermass always was.

But a moment was all that was needed for Mr Segundus' conscience to make itself known and to remind him that it was unfair to enjoy such a feeling without Childermass' knowledge. Thus Mr Segundus, with a sigh, pushed himself away from Childermass and over to his own side of the bed.

This action appeared to have the consequence of waking Childermass up, for the mattress then shifted as if Childermass had rolled or had stretched. After a few moments Childermass said, "You are awake, sir?" sounding very much as if his face were still half-pressed into the bolster.

"Yes," replied Mr Segundus, "and I am sorry; I had drawn close to you without meaning to. I..." He paused, considering how best to convey his lack of censure and his understanding of Childermass' situation (for surely Childermass would be comforted to hear such things). "I had noticed... ah... Mr Childermass..." Mr Segundus cleared his throat. "Only, when it comes to your... your state, you should know that I do not... nor do I expect that..." Mr Segundus paused again.

Childermass remained silent.

"Please," continued Mr Segundus, "you must not think that I am offended in any way, or that I would be offended if you were to...." Mr Segundus scratched at his elbow. "Only, I know, sir, that you do not like to abstain, and I would not like you to think that I would in any way prohibit... or stop you from..." Mr Segundus swallowed. "I merely mean, Mr Childermass, that if you would like to remedy your current state, you need not feel as if you must leave the bed for my sake. It is really no trouble to me; I will not mind."

There followed yet more silence.

"You wish me to touch myself again?" asked Childermass softly.

Mr Segundus flushed. "I... I..." Goodness! It was difficult for Mr Segundus to speak in more than a wheeze, for it felt as if all his breath had gone. "I do not presume to tell you what to do, Mr Childermass! Please do not think that I... It is just that, if you would like to but are concerned about causing offence, then you should know that no offence will be caused. After all, it is your bed, sir; you may use it however you like."

There came the sound of Childermass letting out a breath. "Very well," said he, his voice low and thick (a result, no doubt, of having just woken). Several moments then passed, but Childermass said no more.

Mr Segundus felt his heart racing as the silence continued on. In the darkness it was impossible see Childermass and so discern what he was thinking. Was Childermass considering Mr Segundus' suggestion? Or had Mr Segundus, perhaps, caused offence despite his best intentions? Mr Segundus had not meant to point out Childermass' state in anything like an accusing tone, and he certainly had not meant to demand anything of Childermass; all he had wanted was to ease any embarrassment or discomfort that Childermass might have been feeling. (Here, Mr Segundus' conscience supplied that it was oddly convenient how Mr Segundus' manner of easing Childermass' embarrassment happened to agree with what Mr Segundus had desired for the whole day.)

Indeed, perhaps Childermass himself suspected just how eager Mr Segundus was for Childermass to perform the act of onanism again. Perhaps Childermass was aware of Mr Segundus' illicit eavesdropping the night before and of Mr Segundus' sordid use of the bed in the morning. Perhaps Childermass was enraged that Mr Segundus would attempt to lure him into such a delicate situation for a second time!

Perhaps. But then, if Childermass was angry so, then why, in that moment, did Mr Segundus notice a familiar, faint rising and falling of the bedclothes, as if Childermass were...

Mr Segundus' face burned up with a sudden heat (and his private parts felt as if they fared no better). Oh!

But the faint rising and falling did not last for long, for it was soon superseded by a great rolling and shifting of the blankets, which ended as quickly as it started. Poor Mr Segundus was in such a shock at this movement that it took him a good few moments to realise that the tumult had resulted from Childermass' having rolled onto his back (this realisation of Mr Segundus' came from the warm and cavernous space which now felt as if it lay between them, created, no doubt, from Childermass' having bent his legs at the knee, tenting the blankets in the process).

Mr Segundus was very certain then that he should withdraw farther from Childermass, to give Childermass enough room to conduct his business. But, wickedly, Mr Segundus did not do anything of the sort. Instead Mr Segundus continued to lie in close proximity to Childermass and to the shifting of the blankets and to the warm, inviting space between them. Oh, if only those temptations were all! Yet they were not, for there followed two noises and both of them were as lewd and as alluring as anything Mr Segundus had ever heard:

The first noise was the harsh sound of skin upon skin, far louder than it had been the night before with the bedclothes now tented as they were (and I'm sure you need not have me tell you what the cause of this noise was). Meanwhile the second noise (oh, the second noise!) was yet more unexpected, for it was the soft uttering of a voice, sounded with the exhalation of a breath.

How Mr Segundus' face and Mr Segundus' private parts burned now!

In the ensuing minutes (and here we must assume it was indeed a mere matter of minutes, though the moment appeared to stretch out, endless) the two noises did not stop but continued on, even if they were both rather inconsistent. Sometimes the noise of skin upon skin was loud and regular and even, and sometimes it was slow, almost stopping, or stuttering jerkily. And the noise of Childermass' voice, Childermass' moaning (for moaning it was), was even less consistent still: sometimes it was a hum; sometimes a dark, round "Oh" (though always quiet); and sometimes it was the silence of heavy, jagged breathing, punctuated with a strangled gasp.

Mr Segundus tried, himself, to be silent (though how successful he was at this he did not know). All thought of sleeping or of giving Childermass due privacy was impossible; Mr Segundus was far, far too aroused for anything approaching propriety or good manners. Why, his private piece was straining! aching! (each brush of the tip of it against his nightshirt was torture!) and every other part of Mr Segundus was tense and taught. My goodness me; at that moment, Mr Segundus could no more sleep than he could fly. All Mr Segundus could hope to do was to be as unobtrusive as possible: to lie still and quiet and, in doing so, to persuade Childermass that he was not earnestly, sinfully, trying to feel and hear and (good Lord!) smell every single part of Childermass' endeavour.

Perhaps Mr Segundus was rather successful in his deception; Childermass did not seem to notice Mr Segundus' presence at all, for it did not appear to have affected Childermass' onanism in any way. Certainly, Childermass seemed to conduct himself with far more freedom than he had the night before. "And is this," thought Mr Segundus feverishly, "how Childermass performs the task when he is truly alone? For he is so very uninhibited. Why, the sound of his movements is so clear that I can almost imagine every single touch of his fingers upon his piece!" At this, Mr Segundus was forced to bite his lip and curl his hands into the mattress, lest he give in to the temptation to touch his own private piece. (And to imagine Childermass' shock if Mr Segundus did so! To imagine it!)

Yet Mr Segundus' belief in his own success was not to last. You see, shortly thereafter (the noise of Childermass' hands on his private piece increasing all the while) there was another great shifting in the bedclothes, as if Childermass had rolled over again, and this was suddenly followed (ah! ah! the surprise of it!) by a touch (a touch!) as one of Childermass' hands found Mr Segundus' elbow and clutched hard in the sleeve of Mr Segundus' nightshirt.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" cried Mr Segundus.

Childermass' fingers flexed. "Christ," groaned he, his breath clotted, voice dark, hissing. "Mr Segundus..."

Mr Segundus whimpered. His heart was pounding. Every hair upon his body had risen. No use now, pretending to be asleep. Indeed, had Childermass ever thought Mr Segundus _was_ asleep? ("For," considered Mr Segundus in a panicked fashion, "even in the throes of passion, Childermass is hardly the sort of man to be so loud as to disturb another's slumber.")

Childermass groaned again, and the noise of the hand not clutched in Mr Segundus' sleeve was unmistakeable. "Ah! Mr Segundus!" Childermass' voice was breathless, gasping. "Mr Segundus!"

Poor Mr Segundus let out a noise that was very much like a sob (how he ached!) and he lifted a hand so that he could cover the fingers at his elbow with his own. Childermass' knuckles were warm, trembling. "Mr Childermass," whispered Mr Segundus, his voice rather more strangled than he would have liked. " _Mr Childermass_." He squeezed Childermass' fingers.

Suddenly the hand at Mr Segundus' elbow jolted, Childermass gasped out like one drowning, then drew in a great, dark, shuddering breath, and the bed creaked with the undulation of the mattress.

When the rocking of the mattress subsided, all that was left was the sound of Childermass' ragged breathing.

Slowly even this breathing calmed. Childermass pulled his fingers from Mr Segundus' grasp, which nearly earned another sob from Mr Segundus. (How little he wanted to relinquish that hold!)

What does one do in such a situation? Mr Segundus was more aroused than he ever thought possible, which left him incapable of thinking to any purpose. He yearned to touch his private member. He yearned to touch Childermass again. He yearned to...

But then the mattress dipped, the blankets were thrown back with a rush of cruel, cold air, and there came the sound of the curtains opening and closing upon Childermass' side of the bed.

Mr Segundus held still, his heart suddenly pounding harder. Cautiously, he listened as he heard Childermass' footsteps slowly crossing the room. There followed some quieter, fumbling noises, which presumably heralded Childermass' cleaning himself down. Then further footsteps, and Mr Segundus braced himself for the bed-curtains opening once again, but in this he was disappointed. Instead there came a very curious sort of clattering and scraping noise, which Mr Segundus was unable to place until, finally, from behind the bed-curtains, there came a flash of illumination from a tinderbox. This light flickered then grew stronger as it was transferred from the tinder to a candle.

Even louder now came the sound of Mr Segundus' heart pounding as his sight returned (albeit faint and grey within the confines of the bed). What did Childermass mean to do? When Childermass pulled back the bed-curtains, what would he find but Mr Segundus flushed from head to toe, his private piece hard, and his hand lingering upon the sleeve of his nightshirt to seek the last of the warmth that had been left there by Childermass' fingers?

There came the noise of Childermass packing the tinderbox away.

Mr Segundus held his breath and watched as the candle rose behind the bed-curtains.

Curiously, however, the bed-curtains did not open. Instead Childermass said, "I imagine you would like some privacy, sir." His voice sounded amused, as if spoken with a smile. The candle began to make its way around the outside of the bed. "I shall leave you plenty of time to do whatever you need to do before I return."

Oh! Oh! Poor Mr Segundus meant to cry out, to make his same excuses as the night before: to say that he was quite fine as he was, that he had no need to perform any act, and that he certainly had no intention of forcing Childermass out into the cold corridors. But there was no time, for when Mr Segundus, in his compromised state, had finally understood Childermass' meaning and thought to protest against it, the candle, and Childermass with it, had already disappeared away into the darkness of the house, closing the bedroom door behind them.

All was dark once more.

Mr Segundus breathed out shakily.

For a brief moment Mr Segundus considered obliging his conscience and going to sleep. After all, that was what he knew he ought to do. But then, it wasn't as if Childermass minded Mr Segundus' onanism (Childermass had, after all, invited Mr Segundus to practice it in Childermass' very bed). Indeed, Childermass might even relish the thought of it (the memory of Childermass calling out Mr Segundus' name in the fevered darkness!) And besides, would it not be rude of Mr Segundus to have forced Childermass out into the cold for no reason?

Yet, these arguments were perhaps unnecessary, for before he had even finished thinking them, Mr Segundus had rolled onto his back, tugged up the hem of his nightshirt and taken himself in hand.

Oh! The first touch of his fingers to his private piece was as fresh and as sweet as the first sip of water is to a parched throat! Mr Segundus nearly made a noise at the feel of it, though he stifled it into a sigh.

How good it felt to touch himself after he had been aching so much. Oh, to carry out such an act in Childermass' bed and with Childermass' approbation! And to remember everything that had just occurred! Childermass' heavy breathing, and the noise of his hands working, and the undulation of the bed as he had reached his end. (Might we even speculate that he had reached his end to the thought of Mr Segundus? Might we?)

There was no time to be light and teasing. Mr Segundus set to his task with a fast pace and a tight grip. He spread his legs and raised one knee to knead at his testicles with his other hand. Oh, oh, sweet sensation!

And what was Childermass thinking now? Was he imagining what Mr Segundus did? Was he maybe...?

But no; that thought was too dangerous. Far better to consider what Childermass had done already: the warmth of his hands and the warmth of the sheets.

On a sudden impulse, Mr Segundus rolled onto his side and ran a hand over the mattress where Childermass had lain. How warm it still was from Childermass' skin! How rumpled still were the blankets! Mr Segundus shuddered, then rolled over further and pressed his nose into the bolster. Oh, to be cocooned, as he was then, in the feel and the smell of Childermass!

Mr Segundus' private member moved easily now, generating hot pleasure with its every slide against the bedsheets (for, somehow, Mr Segundus had contrived to stop grasping his piece with his fingers and was instead thrusting down into the softness of the mattress). He gasped into the bolster.

Would that Mr Segundus could do this every night! Would that Childermass would be willing to grant him such licence! Oh, and to think of the groans that came from Childermass' throat, the trembling of Childermass' fingers!

It was at this moment that Mr Segundus' wayward hand, still running over the warmth of Childermass in the bedsheets, in its questing came across a section of the sheets that, though warm, was also undeniably damp.

Mr Segundus made a choked noise in his throat.

God! Oh God! Here we had the evidence of Childermass' exertions, of Childermass' ecstasy. There beneath Mr Segundus' fingers, sticky, smearing, was the culmination of Childermass' desire! Mr Segundus rocked his hips harder.

Oh, he should not! He should not! It is one thing to be given licence to touch oneself in somebody else's bed, and it is completely another to act so disgustingly or so sordidly.

How would Childermass feel if he knew that at this moment Mr Segundus was thrusting against Childermass' warmth in the mattress, was smelling Childermass' exertion on the bolster, and was shamelessly running his fingers through (intimacy of intimacies!) Childermass' seed upon the bedsheets? How would he feel if he knew how Mr Segundus' movements were shuddering, his breath raw and ragged, his mouth open? What would Childermass do if he knew just how Mr Segundus ran through his mind, over and over (just as Mr Segundus ran his fingers over and over that sticky dampness), the moment when, with a strangled gasp, Childermass had reached his end at but one touch from Mr Segundus' fingers?

Mr Segundus made a desperate, straining noise and loosed his seed upon the mattress.

Oh sinful release! Mr Segundus collapsed down onto the bed, feeling all over weak. He breathed heavily into the bolster, smelling both Childermass and himself, and feeling a dampness beneath his stomach to match the dampness that still lay underneath his hand.

Suddenly Mr Segundus found it within himself to feel guilty.

The true depravity of his actions had been uncalled for. Childermass may have granted him licence to perform the act of onanism, but Childermass had not given him licence for _that_.

Mr Segundus groaned, though it was a far unhappier noise than any which had preceded it. With a sigh, he pushed himself up with his trembling arms until he was sitting, then he pushed his nightcap off his head with the back of one wrist (for in the excitement of Mr Segundus' acts the nightcap had slipped down over his eyes). Mr Segundus sighed again as he set about performing the difficult task (in the darkness) of slipping out through the bed-curtains and seeking the pocket handkerchief that lay within his discarded dressing gown.

Once Mr Segundus had wiped down his hands with his handkerchief he felt better, and once he had scrambled back through the bed-curtains and made an attempt at wiping down the bedsheets (removing the evidence of both his _and_ Childermass' exertions) Mr Segundus felt even better still. It was cold outside the bed, enough so that once Mr Segundus had returned his now-soiled handkerchief to the pocket of his dressing gown, he was glad to slip back through the bed-curtains into the warmth that lay within.

The bed was indeed warm (and rumpled also). Mr Segundus climbed beneath the blankets, set his nightcap back upon his head and found himself ever so weary; he had been awake for long enough now that he was more than ready to fall back asleep.

Oh, but what of Mr Segundus' guilt? Well, in his increasingly tired state, Mr Segundus found that he no longer worried so much. Why, Childermass had given him leave to perform most of his actions, and for those more sordid actions that Childermass hadn't given him leave to perform, well, about those Childermass need never know. All that was important was that Mr Segundus was determined not to act so sordidly in the future (a task which he at that moment felt himself more than capable of).

At this point, or shortly afterwards, Mr Segundus must then have fallen asleep, though he knew nothing of it. All he knew was that some indefinite period of time later he was woken by a noise and a light. Upon opening his eyes (though this was no pleasant task) Mr Segundus discovered that the noise was Childermass' having opened the bed-curtains and that the light came from Childermass' candle, which now stood upon the bedside table.

Blinking, Mr Segundus hazily considered if perhaps he should start feeling guilty again, though for what he could not quite remember.

"Mph," he said. "Mr... hm, Mr Childermass..."

In the candlelight, Childermass' smile was soft and his eyes were softer still. "I have woken you, Mr Segundus." Childermass sat down on the bed and laid his hand gently upon Mr Segundus' shoulder. "I did not mean to. Go to sleep."

And so Mr Segundus did.

The next time Mr Segundus woke it was to the sound of birds singing outside of the window and the fire crackling in the hearth. Indeed, perhaps it was the fire that had woken Mr Segundus in the first place, for it seems that he was now warm enough that he had spread out his arms and legs as far as they could go. It appeared that Childermass had done the same, for there was a calf resting against Mr Segundus' foot and an arm across Mr Segundus' stomach.

It was this touch of Childermass' that caused Mr Segundus (with some suddenness) to recall the events of the night. Oh, to think of all that had happened! He rolled onto his side, away from Childermass, and tried desperately not to let any guilt rise alongside the memory (though at this he was rather unsuccessful).

To think, if Mr Segundus felt guilty for his actions, then what of Childermass? Could Childermass perhaps have regretted all that had occurred? And if so, then perhaps Childermass might wish to treat Mr Segundus more coolly than before. Perhaps, even, it would be best if Mr Segundus, for the rest of the day, avoided Childermass so as to give Childermass some space.

Yet all these thoughts were halted by a movement in the bed that heralded Childermass' own waking up. Mr Segundus felt the blankets behind him fall back as Childermass sat up; the mattress shivered as, presumably, Childermass stretched; and then something light fell to the bedclothes, which may have been Childermass' discarded nightcap.

There followed a silence.

Mr Segundus considered how fruitful it would be if he were to pretend to still be asleep.

"Good morning, Mr Segundus," came Childermass' voice then, the tone of it suggesting that he was wearing a smile.

"Oh," said Mr Segundus to the bolster. "Good morning."

Ignoring Childermass now would be as ridiculous as it would be rude, and so Mr Segundus sat up also (and as he did so, he was able to confirm, dazedly, that it _was_ Childermass' nightcap that had fallen to the bed).

Childermass was indeed smiling. "How did you sleep?"

Mr Segundus flushed. "Very well" he said, "thank you."

Childermass' smile curled at the edges. "I am glad." And he looked at Mr Segundus further.

Mr Segundus looked back in return.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Mr Segundus happened to flush some more. Then Childermass' smile grew sly in a way that made it impossible for Mr Segundus not to return it with one of his own. Childermass turned and opened the bed-curtains.

"I believe it is warmer this morning that it has been all week," said Childermass, looking to the still-shuttered window. "Do you feel it?"

"Yes," agreed Mr Segundus, feeling within himself a growing relief that Childermass did not seem unhappy in the slightest. "Yes, I believe so too."

Childermass laughed. "We'll have a good day studying Vinculus, I'll wager; he'll have no reason to complain in this weather, thank God, and with any luck he'll sleep the whole day through if we put him in front of the fire again." Childermass turned a grin upon Mr Segundus. "I do not know about you, sir, but I should be glad to have a day with the King's book that does not involve being interrupted by said book's grouching and calling for more porter."

Mr Segundus laughed in return and smiled yet wider.


	7. Chapter 7

Were we to look in upon Mr Segundus while he was at his toilet that morning, we would have found him rather cheerful.

Why, there he was shaving in his looking glass and humming a few bars of something or other; and there he was smiling as he pulled on his stockings; and look! there he even let out a light laugh as he accidentally dropped his neckcloth to the floor.

We cannot blame Mr Segundus for this good humour, for I am sure that you too would be in a happy state of mind if you felt the relief that swelled Mr Segundus' breast at that moment. You see, after all that had happened (the wicked eavesdropping, and the sordid acts, etc., etc., etc.) Mr Segundus had, astoundingly, not earned Childermass' censure. Indeed, if the smiles that Childermass had graced Mr Segundus with that morning were anything to go by, it seemed that Mr Segundus had, in fact, earned Childermass' approval!

What an inexplicable thing! To be sure, Childermass still wasn't aware of the full depravity that Mr Segundus had stooped to, but Childermass knew more than enough to pass judgement if he were so inclined. But it seems that Childermass was not inclined, which was almost certainly down to his kindness and his understanding. Though, were Mr Segundus to consider it further (which he found himself hesitant to do, for he fancied that once started, he would not be able to stop) he might even come to the conclusion that Childermass had very much enjoyed all that had occurred.

Mr Segundus opened the window-curtains and smiled out at the garden and its bright, sunlit snow. He imagined himself that night broaching the topic with Childermass: he imagined their discussion of the previous night's events, and Childermass' sensible words upon the subject, and he imagined, bravely, admitting to all he had done and finding that this only made Childermass smile the wider.

Oh my. Mr Segundus took a breath and reminded himself that he did not at all know how Childermass felt about things, and that he knew only that Childermass had more than enough reason to treat him with disdain but had been kind enough not to do so.

Taking another breath, Mr Segundus turned from the window and headed down to breakfast.

He arrived in the little drawing room just as Childermass and Vinculus were sitting down at the breakfast-table. Childermass was grinning, presumably at something Vinculus had just said. Mr Segundus smiled to see it.

"Good morning, sir," greeted Childermass then, turning to Mr Segundus.

"Oh! Good morning," replied Mr Segundus. "And good morning, Vinculus."

Vinculus returned the greeting with a lazy smile.

How pleasant it is to spend time with friends when all are in a high spirits! Mr Segundus sat down at the table, which was set out with several appetising things: hot bread rolls, fresh coffee, and a cold hare pie (this last being the remnants of the previous night's dinner).

This morning Sally the parlourmaid was not the only one to attend upon the table, for Mrs Bull, the housekeeper, had helped her to bring up the breakfast. Indeed, it was Mrs Bull herself who had carried in the hare pie, and she then set about serving it.

"You are very bright this morning, gentlemen," said Mrs Bull as she was at this task, "which is no wonder, after your successes!" She gave them all a smile. "Indeed, I have come up especially to congratulate you upon your work."

"Our work?" asked Childermass as she set his plate in front of him.

"Why, the warm weather, of course!" cried Mrs Bull. "Your spell for warmth has worked exceeding well. I am glad you kept at it."

Childermass and Mr Segundus looked at each other across the table. Mr Segundus frowned and shook his head, and Childermass shrugged in return.

"Alas," said Childermass, looking to Mrs Bull, "but once again the warm weather is not our doing."

"You have our apologies," added Mr Segundus. "We spent all day yesterday upon the study of Vinculus; we did not once touch upon a spell for warmth."

"Is that so?" Mrs Bull graced Mr Segundus with a smile. "Well, you need not apologise for it, sir. For what does it matter how the weather has grown warm? All that matters is how much more comfortable it now is!" She set Mr Segundus' plate in front of him. "What a pleasant day it is today, and what a pleasant night it shall be also, no doubt, with all of us able to sleep in our own beds at last! (For, to own the truth, I fancy I might have been pressed to do Mrs Hitchin some mischief were I forced to put up with her snoring for any longer.)" She picked up Vinculus' plate.

"Ah," said Mr Segundus.

"And I am sure _you_ must particularly welcome the weather, sir," said Mrs Bull to Mr Segundus, smiling at him some more. "For I know how little you wished to inconvenience Mr Childermass by sharing his bed, good as you are. (Not that I imagine you are any inconvenience at all, sir; for I am sure you must not snore like Mrs Hitchin. Though, could anyone match the volume of that woman?) Regardless, Mr Segundus, I know you happen to be nice about these things, and considerate of others too, so you must be full glad to be able to return to your own room and so impose upon Mr Childermass no longer."

Once more, Mr Segundus and Childermass looked at each other across the table.

Mr Segundus had turned rather red. "Yes," he agreed, turning back to Mrs Bull. "You are right, Mrs Bull. I am sure Mr Childermass will be happy to have his bed to himself once more, and I shall be happy to return to my own. How good it will be, for the whole household, to return to our old habits where we need trouble no-one any longer!" He made an attempt upon a smile.

Vinculus gave out a bark of laughter which, when Mr Segundus looked to him, appeared to be directed at Vinculus' plate and its serving of pie as Mrs Bull handed it back to him. With a continuing smile, Vinculus reached across the table to help himself to the bread rolls.

"Of course," interjected Childermass, "you must be glad also, Mrs Bull, for not only may you now sleep without Mrs Hitchin, but you need no longer worry about your supply of porter being depleted, as I am quite certain that Vinculus will now be able to sleep without it."

Vinculus here paused in his quest for bread rolls to give Childermass a long (and not very friendly) stare.

If Mrs Bull noticed Vinculus' reaction, she did not show it. Instead she curtsied to Childermass. "Why, yes, Mr Childermass!" said she. "I had not thought of that. This turn in the weather is welcome all round." And in her joyous spirits she gave all at the table a second helping of the pie (which appeared to decrease Vinculus' irritation a good deal).

Unfortunately, Mr Segundus' spirits could not likewise be recovered by a larger breakfast. And I must admit that Mr Segundus' spirits were indeed brought low by the situation, even if this was not fully obvious (for Mr Segundus did his best to return Mrs Bull as many smiles as she gave out). Once Mrs Bull had left to see to the household ("There being so many bedrooms to be aired out, gentlemen") Mr Segundus continued on in his pretense at happiness and tried to be as jolly as possible.

Oh, Mr Segundus! Need we ask why he was unhappy? Surely we do not. For how would you feel if you had grown to quite a state of intimacy with the object of your desires (and had expected that such intimacies might continue on in the near future) only to find said intimacies snatched away from you at the last moment?

Never again was Mr Segundus to sleep in the same bed as Childermass. Never again were they to conduct their pleasant night-time conversations. And never again could Childermass be persuaded upon to perform certain sordid acts while Mr Segundus listened!

As the morning continued on, and the three men set about studying the writing upon Vinculus once more, Mr Segundus' disappointment did not lessen any, though he strove to fight against it. Yet, it seems that perhaps Mr Segundus wasn't alone in his struggles, for every now and again he would meet Childermass' eyes and, bless me, but it seemed almost as if something in Childermass' expression betrayed a similar sense of loss. To be sure, Mr Segundus may have been imagining it, but he almost fancied as if their glances were saying to each other, "Well, here is an unfortunate situation we find ourselves in!"

Of course, Mr Segundus wondered if he were projecting too much of his own sentiment upon Childermass (perhaps, indeed, Childermass was happy to finally be free of Mr Segundus' presence!) but there was no doubting that Childermass did not smile very much that day, and that when Vinculus smiled or laughed (which he appeared to do often, presumably being put in a good mood after so much hare pie) Childermass was sharper with him than was his usual way.

Still, while Mr Segundus had always been susceptible to a somewhat-morose state of mind, it was generally his habit (after he had indulged in an amount self-pity) to strive to recognise the positive side of any unhappy situation. And in this instance, the more positive outcomes were plentiful and easy to discern.

You see, Mr Segundus fancied, when he thought about it, that he had been ever so lucky. For, when he looked upon the situation with the assistance of reason, he found he must admit how sinful his and Childermass' actions had truly been. Oh, yes, Childermass had said some very pretty things in favour of onanism, and most of them were likely true, but practicing onanism by one's self is so very different to what had happened:

Mr Segundus had asked Childermass to practice the act of onanism so that Mr Segundus might experience it from close proximity, and Childermass (for reasons known only to himself) had obliged him. There was no other excuse for Mr Segundus' having asked Childermass to do so other than that Mr Segundus desired (truly, wrongly) to hear and smell and feel every part of Childermass' carnal enjoyment. In no way was it right for one man to desire another in such a way and Mr Segundus knew it.

No matter how simply and innocently it had seemed to happen, what had occurred between them should not have taken place.

Thus, in a way, it was a blessing that the warm weather had come when it had, for who knows into what further misjudgment they might have stumbled had they been given another night together? Mr Segundus and Childermass had teetered on the cusp of something very dangerous, and it was only through the workings of providence (for providence it must have been) that they had been saved before they had fallen.

This reasoning calmed Mr Segundus somewhat. I cannot say that he was at all happy or content, but he knew that he had been rescued from himself and ought to be thankful for it.

Perhaps Childermass was likewise thankful, for his disappointed glances appeared to decrease as the day wore in. Instead they were replaced with something of a thoughtful manner, which Mr Segundus noticed particularly as they sat down to dinner.

Oh, how Mr Segundus now savoured their conversation together! As they ate, Mr Segundus and Childermass discussed the writing upon Vinculus, as was usual, and Mr Segundus ventured once more to discuss Bolby's book about fairy languages, which led to a number interesting tangents. Certainly, there was much that Mr Segundus should not have regretted losing in their night-time encounters, but he did not admonish himself for regretting the loss of _this_.

Truly, Mr Segundus had not realised until now how much he had come to rely upon discussing the day's magic with Childermass once they were settled in bed. Gracious me, how many extra hours they had been then granted for conversation! But now, as before, Mr Segundus and Childermass found that they had instead to go their separate ways after supper and so each be isolated with his own thoughts until the morning.

We cannot blame Mr Segundus, therefore, for attempting to get as much conversation out of Childermass as possible while he had the opportunity. They discussed much over dinner, and once dinner was over Mr Segundus and Childermass left Vinculus to his own devices (which he seemed rather glad of) and headed to the library, there to pull out all the books they could find about Bolby's work and so study them together.

The discussion continued over supper, with Bolby's ideas taken apart and put back together again and considered from many different angles. Indeed, so engrossed were Mr Segundus and Childermass in their conversation that only on one occasion during supper did Childermass pause to reprove Vinculus for drinking so much of the beer provided with their meal (this occurring when Childermass went to pour himself his first mug of said beer, only to discover that the whole jug upon the table was already empty).

After supper, Mr Segundus and Childermass still yet talked and talked. Vinculus, now somehow more drunk than he ever had been when provided with two bottles of porter, gave Childermass a great leer, then snorted and headed off to bed (stumbling over the hearthrug in the process).

This retiring of Vinculus normally led Mr Segundus and Childermass to also declare their intentions of going to bed, but this they did not do tonight. Instead they talked for at least another hour or two until the stillness and the silence around them suggested that the rest of the household had, in its entirety, gone to sleep.

It was only then, realising the lateness of the hour, that Mr Segundus found it within himself to feel a little guilty. He had kept Childermass talking for so long (just wanting to discuss this one more thing, and then another) that Childermass must surely have been exhausted.

"Oh, I am sorry," said Mr Segundus. "I do talk on so. You must be quite tired." Mr Segundus attempted a smile, then ran his hands over his face. "I shall retire to bed."

Childermass, who had been toying with his empty beer mug as they spoke, looked up. It was a funny thing, and Mr Segundus must surely have been projecting his own state of mind onto him, but it seemed almost as if Childermass were as disappointed to hear this statement as Mr Segundus had been to pronounce it.

They looked at each other.

Childermass' lips parted, and for a moment Mr Segundus felt certain that Childermass was going to ask him to stay, or to make some mention of the fact that they could no longer share a bed and to voice his regret that it must be so. But Childermass merely sighed and said, "Goodnight, Mr Segundus."

"Goodnight," replied Mr Segundus. He took up his candle and stood out of his chair but didn't move any further, fancying, suddenly, that perhaps _he_ should be the one to mention that he would miss Childermass' company.

But what was the point? The situation could not be changed, so it would do no good to either of them to dwell upon it. They would see each other again in the morning; it would truly not be so long, no matter how it might feel at that moment.

Thus Mr Segundus merely bowed and left the room, and tried not to consider the way Childermass watched him as he did so.

Oh, Mr Segundus was more unhappy than ever as he entered his bedroom (even though the fire in the hearth, after he stoked it a little, deigned to send out a good heat for once) and got dressed for bed. Perhaps what depressed him so was how unchanged and how familiar this part of his nightly routine was. Why, if this had been the previous night, in just a few moments more Mr Segundus, now dressed in his nightshirt and nightcap, could have taken up his candle and set off for Childermass' room.

But now Mr Segundus could no longer go to Childermass' room. He could no longer enter the comfort of it, with its smell of Childermass and its bedclothes all warm and rumpled. He could no longer slip into that shared bed and have Childermass, undressed and in his nightclothes, smile at him in the darkness behind the bed-curtains.

Mr Segundus sighed and settled down to say his prayers. In these prayers he made certain to say how thankful he was that the weather had grown warm to save the household from discomfort, and that he needed no longer worry about Vinculus being too cold all alone or about Mrs Bull growing too angry with Mrs Hitchin and her snoring.

They truly had been blessed.

He also fancied he should say how thankful he was that he had been saved from Childermass' bed and the temptation of Childermass' body, and he most certainly meant to ask for forgiveness for the occurrences of the previous night. But, oh! the disappointment that Mr Segundus felt was still so raw that he couldn't bring himself to do so. Instead, Mr Segundus found himself reiterating how thankful he was for the comfort of the rest of the household, and giving out a plea for forgiveness that was as vague as it was half-hearted.

Poor Mr Segundus felt rather disappointed with himself as he rose. "I will pray more fully tomorrow," he tried to reason to himself, "when I will surely be more rational and cool-headed, and will have stopped longing for what I should not."

Then Mr Segundus climbed into bed, and how odd it felt to lie upon his own mattress after so long! He closed the bed-curtains behind him and lay his head upon the bolster.

Yet sleep did not come easily to Mr Segundus that night. Instead he lay awake thinking of Childermass and Childermass' bed and all that had occurred upon it. Perhaps Childermass was performing his nightly act of onanism at that very moment, and Mr Segundus found it far too easy to imagine such a thing, especially now, when he knew all the sounds that Childermass might make during the process (and, indeed, knew how hard Childermass' hands would tremble too).

Mr Segundus huffed and turned over. He made an attempt to stop his thoughts from turning towards the lewd and, to assist him, he tried to focus instead on how low and unhappy he felt. It was, after all, quite expected that he should miss Childermass' company when they had such invigorating conversations. To think, at that moment, Mr Segundus could have been happily sat in Childermass' bed discussing Bolby's book some more. How delightful a conversation can be when played out in the warmth and comfort of a bed! They would talk and laugh, and doubtless Childermass would continue on in that vein about fairies mixing English words into their languages that he had mentioned just before they had retired to bed. How good Childermass was at explaining so many things, from languages to onanism. And how sensible his arguments! Truly, Childermass' defense of onanism made it seem as if it were the most pleasant, most harmless thing in the world.

A thought then entered Mr Segundus' mind: he was, after so many nights, alone. Were he to perform the act of onanism at that moment, nobody would be any the wiser.

Mr Segundus considered the prospect some more. Certainly he had the opportunity, but somehow the act seemed less alluring in his own bed without the warmth of Childermass to keep him company.

Mr Segundus huffed again. Had he not meant to stop his thoughts from turning towards the lewd? Attempting to will himself into onanism was hardly the way to do it.

Thus, Mr Segundus decided that he was not fit to be alone with his thoughts at that moment, and instead determined upon distracting himself with some reading. He threw back the bed-curtains upon all sides of the bed so that he might receive the light from the fire (and, indeed, it was so warm that night that it was hardly any colder in bed with them open) and picked up the book that lay upon his bedside table.

It seems that, finally, Mr Segundus had settled upon an occupation that contented him. The book he had in his hand, though not a book about fairy languages, by happy coincidence made some mentions of Bolby, and Mr Segundus grew quite engaged as he sat in bed and read.

Indeed, so interesting were the mentions of Bolby that Mr Segundus determined to discuss them with Childermass the next morning. Yet this was not the end of it, for the more Mr Segundus read, the more points for discussion he discovered. "Oh dear," thought Mr Segundus as this continued on. "I shall have to start writing these thoughts down, or I will never remember them all when faced with Childermass in person." And he allowed himself to feel disappointed once again that Childermass was not present in the bed to discuss things immediately.

Mr Segundus continued to read, and was just considering whether he really ought to get out of bed to find a pen and a piece of paper with which to make a list for Childermass, when he was distracted by a queer sensation. It felt, curiously, almost as if every letter upon the open page of his book had drawn in a sharp breath together (though of course they had not).

Yet, when Mr Segundus looked about himself, nothing else in the room seemed out of the ordinary. Frowning, Mr Segundus returned to his reading, but was stopped again by the same queer sensation, only now stronger than before.

"Magic," thought Mr Segundus. "There is some magic happening. I am quite certain of it."

And still the feeling grew stronger and stronger, until it felt as if not only the letters in Mr Segundus' book, but also the bedclothes, and the bed-curtains, and the floorboards, were all drawing in breath, poised, as if ready to speak.

At this moment the door to Mr Segundus' bedroom opened by itself and closed again.

A strange thing! Yet perhaps not so strange after all, for a few moments later it felt as if that great, drawn breath was finally let out, and as it did so a shadow in the corner of the room nearest the door twisted and shrank and turned into a man in a nightshirt, holding a candle.

Mr Segundus felt his cheeks heating. "Mr Childermass," said he.

Childermass (for such it was) gave Mr Segundus a smile in return (which, most strange of all, appeared to be of a rather hesitant sort).

"Mr Segundus," said Childermass. His feet were bare and his head was bare also; it looked for all the world as if he had just stepped out of bed. Childermass cast his gaze about the room, from the fireplace to the bookshelf to the window-curtains. "You may wonder why I am here," said he to the bedpost. "Well, sir, I had a notion..." He glanced at Mr Segundus. "...and you must tell me if I am wrong..." His gaze once more lit upon the window-curtains. "But I had a notion that perhaps you might miss our sharing a bed together." He looked to Mr Segundus again, but this time he didn't look away.

Can I describe the relief that Mr Segundus felt at that statement? I do not think I can, not truly, for Mr Segundus' relief was very great indeed. "Yes," said he, smiling without realising he was doing so. "Yes I do."

Childermass smiled also. He took one step forward, then appeared to stall and check himself. He gestured at the bed. "May I?"

"Oh. Yes." Mr Segundus nodded. "Yes, please." He put his book to one side, threw back the blankets upon half of the bed, and moved across to give Childermass room to climb inside.

What gladness Mr Segundus felt at that moment! What happiness! As Childermass was busy setting his candle upon the bedside table, Mr Segundus fancied that he really ought to have made a list of subjects to discuss with him, for such was the strength of Mr Segundus' joy that all the thoughts from his reading had clear danced away.

Childermass tucked his toes beneath the bedcovers, but did not attempt to pull up the blankets any further. He lay down on his side, propping his head upon one hand, and looked up at Mr Segundus.

Mr Segundus looked back in return.

"Now, sir," said Childermass. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards briefly. "I had another notion (and again you must tell me if I was wrong)..." He looked to the fireplace, and then back. "...but I had a notion, sir, that perhaps you might want me to touch myself again."

Mr Segundus felt his face flame up red. He swallowed. "Yes," said Mr Segundus. "Yes I do."

Such an immediate answer! Should we feel surprised that Mr Segundus answered in this way? For Mr Segundus himself was not surprised by his answer at all. As much as he had tried to feel thankful for their parting and for the loss of the temptation of Childermass' body, he knew that thankful he was not. Now pressed, Mr Segundus found it quite easy to acknowledge that he had mourned the loss of it all day.

Was it wicked of Mr Segundus to mourn so? To long for a reprieve? Perhaps it was, but he found that he cared little when Childermass himself seemed so unconcerned by such fears. After all, what might Childermass argue but that there was little to feel ashamed about in an act that harmed no-one and felt only good? (And, truly, how could anyone be harmed by a performance of onanism when both parties wanted it with an equal willingness? That it felt good was not in doubt.)

Childermass smiled. "I am glad," said he. For a moment he did nothing more than regard Mr Segundus, and Mr Segundus, flushing harder, regarded him in turn.

Then Mr Segundus, fancying that Childermass was waiting for him to do something, moved farther from Childermass in the bed, so as to give Childermass more room to conduct his business, and Mr Segundus lay down upon his side so that he might be on Childermass' level.

For a moment Mr Segundus considered if he should, as on the previous nights, enter upon the pretence that he was going to go to sleep to give Childermass some privacy. But considering that Childermass had sought him out for the purpose (to think of it!) and was watching Mr Segundus with a very intent gaze, Mr Segundus fancied that a ruse of sleep would be rather redundant.

Yet Mr Segundus had little time to consider such things because shortly, and still holding Mr Segundus gaze, Childermass set his head upon the bolster and reached down to tug up his own nightshirt until it lay bundled about his waist.

Oh.

Mr Segundus found he could hold Childermass' gaze no longer, for Mr Segundus was suddenly far too taken up with watching the lower half of Childermass' body as it was revealed to him.

Childermass' ankles and calves, Mr Segundus had seen before, both clothed and unclothed, (and how many times had Mr Segundus forced himself to stop staring at them when he was supposed to be working!) Even a knee Mr Segundus had glimpsed while Childermass had walked about in his nightshirt. But there Mr Segundus' knowledge of Childermass' body had ended.

Now, however, Mr Segundus was faced not only with Childermass' ankles and calves, neat and strong, but also his thighs, muscular, and with hair thinner there than upon his calves, except for those areas close to Childermass' private parts, with this same dark hair also trailing up Childermass' abdomen and under his nightshirt. And when it came to Childermass' private parts themselves... Oh Lord! Mr Segundus had seen other men's private parts before (indeed, what man has not?) and Childermass' private parts at that moment were limp and much like any other, but oh. Oh. Never before had Mr Segundus seen any man run a hand down to his private parts to stroke his private member as Childermass did now.

Mr Segundus felt as red as a beetroot. "Oh, Mr Childermass," said he, and as he did so he looked up to Childermass' face whereupon Childermass _smiled_ at him, and that made Mr Segundus even redder than before.

Perhaps it was the ease with which Childermass touched himself that caused Mr Segundus' embarrassment. Mr Segundus looked back down. Childermass' strokes were quick and almost careless, stretching a little, twisting a little, pulling a little, until Childermass' private piece began to grow beneath them. (It was almost difficult to discern, this gradual swelling, but every now and then, between the strokes, Childermass' piece would be suddenly a little bigger, a little fuller, standing a little more to attention.)

To think that Childermass had done this very thing for the past two nights while Mr Segundus had lain next to him and listened! Poor Mr Segundus had at the time thought the noise of it alone intimate enough. Hard now to imagine! Little had Mr Segundus known what he was missing!

Childermass was almost fully hard beneath his fingers now and was there ever a sight more captivating? Perhaps, foolishly, Mr Segundus, familiar as he was only with his own private parts in such a situation, had previously assumed that Childermass' parts would look just like his own. But of course they did not, and such was the difference that Mr Segundus' breath caught thick in his throat. Childermass' private piece was not so long as Mr Segundus' and in colour Childermass' piece was a little more red while Mr Segundus' was a little more dark. And oh God the shape of it! Mr Segundus noticed, as Childermass' hand worked, that Childermass' piece happened to curve a little to one side, and it was this shape, this divergence from Mr Segundus' fantasies, that made Mr Segundus flush up all the hotter.

Oh to think of it! One could not see that private piece: the unexpected shape of it, the red skin taut, the foreskin slowly drawing back from the dark tip; one could not see it without wondering, considering, what it might feel like in one's hand.

Something of a whimper escaped Mr Segundus' throat at that, and Childermass' fingers stuttered upon his piece. From the corner of his eye, Mr Segundus saw Childermass' chest rise beneath his linen nightshirt.

Mr Segundus licked his lips and looked to Childermass' face.

Oh with what dark gaze Childermass looked upon him now! Childermass' lips were pressed together, his eyes more heavy-lidded than Mr Segundus had ever seen them. For some reason Mr Segundus had assumed that Childermass, like Mr Segundus, had been watching Childermass' private piece and the movement of Childermass' hand, but suddenly (the realisation sparking a flutter in Mr Segundus' stomach) Mr Segundus considered perhaps that all this time Childermass had instead been watching _him_.

Mr Segundus licked his lips again and the flutter in his stomach flared once more as Childermass' lashes lowered, following the movement of Mr Segundus' tongue.

Poor Mr Segundus felt as if he might burst if he were to remain under such scrutiny any further, and so to distract himself he looked back down to Childermass' piece again.

Childermass' hand was moving slowly now, his fingers trailing up and down the red length of him, from the haired base, to the soft, round head. Indeed, his private piece was in such a state of arousal that it looked as if even this slow, gentle touching would feel very good.

Mr Segundus had to remind himself to breathe.

How close this was to all of Mr Segundus' fantasies of the past week! Might he even consider, perhaps, that this was something that Childermass had also been fantasising? The way Childermass had looked at him! The way Childermass might still be looking at him now, if only Mr Segundus were brave enough to raise his eyes and see.

But Mr Segundus could not tear his gaze from Childermass' private member and Childermass' hand, two fingers and a thumb now gently working Childermass' foreskin up and over the head. The muscles in Childermass' thighs tensed.

Oh! Oh!

Yet while this moment was close (ever so close) to Mr Segundus' illicit fantasies, it was, it must be said, not quite close enough. You see, there was one element of Mr Segundus' fantasies that yet remained unfulfilled.

In that instant Mr Segundus found himself struck by a flash of clarity. He realised then that they, the two of them, had already skipped far past the boundaries of propriety. (For, one man accidentally listening in to another's private moment in the dark of the night was far different to what they did now, in the plain firelight: Childermass touching himself for Mr Segundus' lustful entertainment.) Thus, Mr Segundus reasoned, if they had already crossed those boundaries, what would one more step signify? Nothing. It would be the smallest, easiest of things.

Childermass' hand had moved back to long, pulling strokes, from the base to the tip, his skin stretched, almost glossy, beneath his fingers.

Mr Segundus let out a breath. "Mr Childermass," said he, not once looking away from Childermass' piece, "might I touch you?"

Childermass groaned, a dark, straining noise, and one of his thighs jerked as his hand appeared to clench, for a second, too hard upon his piece.

Mr Segundus looked up to Childermass' face and was surprised to see that there was a redness to Childermass' cheeks.

Childermass watched Mr Segundus for a moment, and then Childermass' lips stretched into a long, long smile. "You may," agreed Childermass, and to prove this point he removed his hand from his piece in a very deliberate manner and rested it out of the way upon this thigh.

For the first time, Mr Segundus found himself able to study Childermass' shaft without Childermass' fingers in the way. How engrossing it was! How red! How hard! To think that on the previous night Mr Segundus had woken to to the feel of this very shaft pressing against him!

Mr Segundus made a soft noise (though he did not realise he did so), bit his bottom lip (though he did not realise he did this either), and reached out his hand to cup Childermass' private piece with his fingers.

If Mr Segundus had been paying attention he might have noticed that Childermass had made a kind of hissing noise and that Childermass' hand had twitched against Childermass' thigh. But Mr Segundus did not notice, for he was too taken up with the feel of Childermass beneath his fingers: hot (so hot), and hard (yet soft also), and jumping a little as Mr Segundus' grip tightened.

Oh. Oh. Oh. Mr Segundus' vision went a little white, though he hardly cared.

He took a breath.

Was it not a funny thing? In truth, Childermass' private piece felt very similar to Mr Segundus' own (when it came to the feel of it in Mr Segundus' palm, there was little to choose between them). And yet Childermass' private piece felt better, far better, than Mr Segundus could explain. You see, there was a sense of satisfaction that came with the feeling: a sense, somehow, of rightness, of perfectness. It was as if Mr Segundus' hand, as if his fingers, had been crafted specifically for this very task, long, long ago, and he had only just discovered it.

There, in Mr Segundus' palm, he realised, was all that he had ever wanted.

Mr Segundus had to remind himself to breathe again, and he let his fingers trace their way over Childermass' shaft, feeling the shape of it, the curve of it, the texture of it, from the rough, dark hair to the soft, soft tip.

Childermass' piece twitched again.

"Mr Childermass," said Mr Segundus, breathlessly. He considered if it would ever be possible to convey all he was feeling. Mr Segundus squeezed his fingers and looked up to Childermass' face.

Yet perhaps Mr Segundus did not need to explain his feelings, for the dark, wondering look in Childermass' eyes suggested that Childermass' own feelings might be a little something of the same.

And in that moment Childermass took Mr Segundus' face in his hands and kissed him.

Ah! Ah! Sweet kiss! Joyous kiss! Ecstatic kiss!

Or rather, Mr Segundus fancied that the action between them must have been a kiss, for it started with Childermass' lips upon his own, but it was not like any sort of kiss that Mr Segundus had heard of before. Why, Childermass had opened up his mouth and his tongue (his tongue!) had pressed past Mr Segundus' lips and made itself acquainted with Mr Segundus' own.

Mr Segundus fancied that perhaps he ought to have been disgusted by such a thing, but he was surprised to find that he felt no such disgust within him. Instead the sensation of it was startling, overwhelming, and compelling to such a degree that Mr Segundus hardly knew at all where he was or what he was about. No; all Mr Segundus found he could do was concentrate upon trying to return the caress in kind.

Childermass appeared to regard Mr Segundus' attempts at retaliation with enthusiasm, and it was all Mr Segundus could do to keep up with him, one of Mr Segundus' hands coming up, seemingly of its own volition, to feel its way along the line of Childermass' jaw.

Oh, sweetest kiss! Mr Segundus wondered, distantly, why even his most detailed fantasies had never contained this, when it set his senses so alight. Childermass was making a soft noise into the kiss, one of Childermass' calves pressing against Mr Segundus' own and Mr Segundus felt as if he might burn up from the sensation, so warm was the embrace.

Finally, Childermass pulled back from the kiss, breathing heavily.

Mr Segundus stared dazedly at Childermass' parted lips, damp and pink, for a good while until Mr Segundus came to himself a little more and realised why the kiss had left his body so warm and his senses as alive as they were.

You see, so taken up had Mr Segundus been with Childermass' mouth that Mr Segundus had happened to forget Childermass' private piece; Mr Segundus' wayward fingers had left it in favour of running over Childermass' jaw then clenching in the rumpled nightshirt at Childermass' waist. This hand at Childermass' waist had, it seems, the purpose of drawing them closer together, for during the kiss Mr Segundus had unthinkingly sought to be closer Childermass' body.

In short: when Mr Segundus came to his senses, he discovered that, without consciously meaning to, he had drawn so close to Childermass that Mr Segundus' private piece (which, though clothed, was very much hard) was now rocking pleasantly against Childermass' stomach. This was hardly considerate behaviour, and so Mr Segundus pulled back as soon as he noticed his error.

Yet if Childermass had been embarrassed to be subjected to Mr Segundus' eager piece, he did not show it. Instead (and how flushed Childermass' cheeks were now!) Childermass watched Mr Segundus with his dark eyes and waited. (For what? Well, that Mr Segundus' could easily guess.)

Childermass' private member had by now been cruelly neglected (though it did not seem to have decreased in size through this treatment) and so Mr Segundus set his hand to work upon it once more. Childermass made a soft noise at the touch and flexed his back in a way that made it difficult for Mr Segundus to concentrate on what he was doing.

Can you imagine what it was like for Mr Segundus in that moment? With Childermass' piece once more hot in his hand, and still as engrossing as it ever was, but also with other distractions vying for his attention: the muscles in Childermass' thighs; the twisting of Childermass' toes; the growing noise of Childermass' breathing. And the more Mr Segundus stroked, the more these distractions increased.

Oh. Had not this been the thing that Mr Segundus had longed for? To feel Childermass hot and heavy in his hand and to have Childermass shifting, writhing, breath quickening, and all because of Mr Segundus' actions?

Mr Segundus looked to Childermass' face. Thankfully, perhaps, Childermass was no longer staring at Mr Segundus; instead Childermass was looking down between them, his lashes lowered and his lips parted. And oh! to see the redness that now stained Childermass' cheeks (indeed, and part of his forehead also)! Mr Segundus wondered to himself how much redder Childermass would grow before he reached his end.

Such a thought had a rather startling effect on Mr Segundus' mind. He recalled, suddenly, Childermass reaching his end the night before and Mr Segundus finding the evidence of said end upon the bedsheets. Mr Segundus looked back down to Childermass' swollen piece and remembered the feel of Childermass' seed, sticky and warm, upon his fingers. Oh. Oh! Mr Segundus' hips rocked a little in the empty air.

Immediately, Childermass let out a low groan, his chest shuddering.

Was that not a curious response from Childermass? Had Mr Segundus grown more flushed from his lewd thoughts? Had Childermass somehow been able to divine what Mr Segundus was thinking? Intrigued, Mr Segundus looked back up to Childermass' face, but Childermass' lashes were still lowered.

There followed a moment or two of confusion, but then Childermass' glance flicked up, briefly, to meet Mr Segundus' eyes, before flicking back down again. It was this, this briefest of movements, that led Mr Segundus to an embarrassing realisation.

Good Lord. Mr Segundus followed Childermass' gaze and discovered that Childermass did not have his eyes lowered for no reason. Instead, what Childermass saw (and perhaps judged Mr Segundus for) was that in the tumbling of the kiss two things had happened: the first was that Mr Segundus had drawn some way out of the blankets so that all save for one of Mr Segundus' feet was uncovered; and the second, and more alarming, occurrence was that Mr Segundus' rocking of his hardness against Childermass' stomach had caused Mr Segundus' private piece (moist as it now was at the tip) to smear against the front of Mr Segundus' nightshirt.

In essence, what Mr Segundus saw as he looked down himself was that his private piece was hard beneath his nightshirt (unmistakably so) and that it pushed against a section of linen so damp that the head of Mr Segundus' piece, pink, was quite visible through the material.

Mr Segundus' face flushed up darker than before. He considered rearranging the folds of his nightshirt so that his piece might appear less prominent, but there was something about the intensity of Childermass' gaze, the focus and concentration of it, that stopped Mr Segundus' from doing so.

Instead, Mr Segundus cleared his throat and set his hand to working upon Childermass' private member all the faster.

"Christ," hissed Childermass upon the increase in pace. His hand clenched fitfully against his thigh and his piece jumped beneath Segundus' fingers.

Poor Mr Segundus bit his lip and considered whether he might keep up the fast strokes, so as to drive Childermass to a quicker end (and, oh! to see it!), or whether he might slow the caresses of his hand to a more teasing pace and so, he hoped, persuade Childermass into further exclamations.

Childermass' chest rose, as if he might blaspheme again, but he did not. Instead he said (though a trifle shakily), "Mr Segundus..." He took a breath. "Now, you must tell me if... ah... if it is not what you would wish for, but I wonder, perhaps..." Here, Childermass paused to screw up his eyes and pant for a moment. "....I wonder if perhaps you might allow me to touch your parts in return?"

Mr Segundus' hand stuttered to a halt. Distantly, he was aware of a futile jolt of his hips and a further jumping from Childermass' private piece, but these feelings were buried beneath the burning of Mr Segundus' skin and the shortness of his breath.

Lord in Heaven! Mr Segundus looked up, wide-eyed, to find that Childerrmass was now watching his face, which only made Mr Segundus breathe faster and blush up hotter. When their eyes met, Childermass gave him a flushed smile.

"Oh!" groaned Mr Segundus. " _Please_. Yes. That is..." He swallowed. "...if it will be no trouble to you."

This earned a laugh from Childermass, dark and rounded. "I assure you, sir," said he, still holding Mr Segundus' gaze, "it will be no trouble at all." His smile widened toothily. "Indeed, there is nothing I should like to do more."

It was all Mr Segundus could do to stifle a whimper.

Childermass' eyes now looked back down between them, and he shifted where he lay, so that he might better reach... Oh! Oh! Oh! Mr Segundus watched, not taking one breath, as Childermass reached one hand across and gently pressed his palm against Mr Segundus' private piece through the fabric of Mr Segundus' nightshirt.

How very warm was that palm! The weight of it pressed down, causing Mr Segundus to feel how truly damp his nightshirt was. Then, carefully, Childermass curled his fingers so as to feel the shape of Mr Segundus through the linen.

It was now, finally, that Mr Segundus remembered to breathe, and the breath he took was a great, deep, ragged one.

Childermass squeezed his fingers a little. Oh sweet Lord! And, fancying that Childermass might need a little assistance, Mr Segundus scrambled to pull up his nightshirt as fast as he could, so that his, too, was bunched around his waist.

Now Childermass' fingers curled around Mr Segundus' piece proper, and was there ever a better feeling? How hot Childermass' hands were! And how unexpectedly soft they felt! Theoretically, being stroked by Childermass should have felt no different to Mr Segundus performing the act upon himself, but it was not like it; it was not like it _at all_.

Childermass' own private piece, as you may imagine, had lain neglected throughout this, but Mr Segundus now remembered himself and took it back up. (Which caused Childermass to let out something of a groaning sound.)

Need we state what pleasure Mr Segundus then felt? Perhaps we should, for it had magnified far greater than it should have done. Mr Segundus found that the act of touching another man's private piece is even more compelling when one's own piece is being fondled in return. Why, it is if one can feel the very sweetness that one inflicts, yet all the time more surprising, more arousing, and warmer than anything that could be achieved on one's own.

Perhaps Childermass was feeling the same, for his breath had grown rather ragged. "Oh, Mr Segundus," said he, his voice somehow darker than before, "I have yearned for this." His fingers increased in speed upon Mr Segundus' piece. "I have thought of little else for days. And when I..." He trailed off when Mr Segundus looked up and their eyes met again, and so Mr Segundus pressed forward and kissed him.

Childermass groaned into the kiss, perhaps because Mr Segundus was intent upon this one being as intimate and un-chaste as the last.

How hot and wet was Childermass' mouth! How soft his lips! How engrossing his tongue!

Childermass made more noises into the kiss and Mr Segundus found himself following suit. One of Childermass' hands (the one not caressing Mr Segundus' piece) was clutching fiercely in the nightshirt at Mr Segundus' back, and one of Childermass' thighs, rough with hair, was pressing against Mr Segundus' own. Oh oh. So warm was Childermass' body in Mr Segundus' arms! So warm!

It was not much longer before Childermass broke the kiss by letting his head fall back against the bolster. "Oh God," said he to the bed's canopy, breathing heavily.

Mr Segundus too was breathing heavily, and it took himself some moments to discover what he was about and realise why. You see, now that the kiss had broken, Mr Segundus had liberty to discover that once again his hands had neglected Childermass' private piece during their embrace. Instead, one of Mr Segundus' hands was grasping the warm skin at Childermass' hip and the other was knotted in the bedsheets beside Childermass' chest. Such a firm, trembling grip! And why? Well, it seems that during the kiss Mr Segundus had sought to push Childermass onto his back so that Mr Segundus might throw all of his weight upon him. This position made it far easier for Mr Segundus to do as he now was: that is to say, rocking his private piece down against Childermass' stomach and the warmth of Childermass' skin there.

In the process, it seems that one of Mr Segundus' thighs had slipped between Childermass' own, for Mr Segundus could feel Childermass' piece pressing against it. Yet while Childermass had to make do with but a thigh, fortunate Mr Segundus still had use of Childermass' hot fingers, which had not once stopped their caresses upon Mr Segundus' piece and now fluttered over the length of Mr Segundus, pushing him further down against Childermass' skin.

Childermass breathed hard through his nose.

Oh, how disappointed Childermass must have been feeling! Here Mr Segundus, intent upon his own pleasure, had neglected Childermass' private member and now sought to use every inch of Childermass' body for his own selfish purpose. When Mr Segundus realised this, he blushed up even redder and made to pull away to return to their earlier, more equitable, position. But as soon as he made a move to do so, he found himself stopped by a hand grasping at one of his buttocks.

"God, sir," gasped Childermass, "please keep at it."

Mr Segundus made a noise as the hand on his backside urged his hips into another thrust. He looked to Childermass' face. "You are sure you do not mind?"

Childermass' returning smile was all dark eyes, flushed cheeks, and red lips. "I do not in the least mind," said he, breathlessly. "Now, sir..." The hand at Mr Segundus' buttock urged him down again. "Let me feel you. Ah. Yes. Like that, sir. Like that."

These last words accompanied Mr Segundus' thrusting down again, and then again. Breathing hard, Mr Segundus fell back into a rhythm, his hips dragging his private member (so hard and heavy now) against the skin of Childermass' abdomen, all warm and soft, with its ragged hair, and almost up and underneath the hem of Childermass' crumpled nightshirt, where Childermass' clever fingers never stopped working: now pressing the length of Mr Segundus down firmly and now fluttering over the tip of Mr Segundus' piece in the lightest, sweetest torture.

Throughout this, Childermass kept up his whispered, breathless encouragements: "Good, Mr Segundus. Good. Come on now. Come on." And Childermass' thigh rocked against Mr Segundus' own.

Poor Mr Segundus was too far gone to speak any words of his own, and he was silent save for the panting of his breath and several soft groans of exertion. It was too much. His forehead had fallen down against Childermass' shoulder and he could smell the musky warmth of Childermass' skin through the linen there. Oh oh. This situation was all Mr Segundus wanted, and yet he wanted ever more! Childermass' fingers fluttered over the head of Mr Segundus' piece again and Mr Segundus whimpered in desperation.

Oh to be Mr Segundus at that moment! To grind his hips down against the heat of Childermass' body! To feel nothing but skin and hair and Childermass' clever hands, and Childermass' own private member, hot and hard and slick against Mr Segundus' thigh!

"Yes," urged Childermass shakily. "Keep at it. Keep at it. God."

Oh Christ! To feel Childermass everywhere! To know that Childermass was enjoying it: was enjoying Mr Segundus' private piece and Mr Segundus' desire! Childermass had said he had yearned for it, had he not? How many nights had Childermass touched himself to the thought of this? How many times had Childermass spilled his seed to the thought of Mr Segundus spilling his own?

Childermass' fingers twitched against Mr Segundus' buttock, Childermass breathed out a word that sounded very much like, "Fuck," and Mr Segundus was of a sudden consumed by his climax! Ah! Ah! Ah! His seed pulsed out between them, Childermass' stomach growing slick in the process, and oh! Of all the things! Of all the ecstasies granted man! Was this not by far the sweetest?

Mr Segundus collapsed down then, breathing heavily into Childermass' shoulder. Distantly, he heard Childermass chuckle, and as Mr Segundus came further back to himself he discovered that his hair was being stroked by one of Childermass' hands in a very pleasant way.

After a few moments, Mr Segundus also happened to feel Childermass' hips shift, Childermass' private member still hard against Mr Segundus' thigh.

Mr Segundus suddenly felt himself rather selfish.

Blushing, he rolled off of Childermass and onto his side. In doing so, he discovered how very much of a mess he had made between them, with some of his seed even staining Childermass' nightshirt.

What on earth did Childermass think to such a thing? If Childermass fancied himself rather ill-used at that moment, Mr Segundus did not blame him.

"Mr Childermass," started Mr Segundus, intending to apologise, but as the name left his mouth, Childermass rolled over to face him, and the look in Childermass' eyes stopped Mr Segundus from saying anything further.

You see, Childermass was smiling, and it was a long, lascivious grin, with his eyes dark and his face red. He looked Mr Segundus in the eye, then looked down himself. Without even thinking, Mr Segundus looked down also, and was met by the sight of one of Childermass' hands running through the mess of Mr Segundus' seed upon Childermass' stomach, thick and white, and then smoothing it, shining, along the length of Childermass' private member, which looked perhaps even harder than it had done before.

"Oh!" gasped Mr Segundus. "Oh, Mr Childermass!"

Childermass let out a groan in return, his hand still smoothing its way along his shaft, the noise of his fingers obscenely slick.

Mr Segundus looked back up to Childermass' face to find Childermass watching him again. Oh Lord! The thick, wet noise continued on, and though Mr Segundus knew it was not possible, he almost fancied that he might grow hard again, were this to continue.

Childermass closed his eyes and bit his lip.

"Oh, Mr Childermass," said Mr Segundus again. He looked back down between them to watch the strokes of Childermass' hand, tight and slow, the deep red of Childermass' piece growing slowly more discernable through Mr Segundus' emission.

Barely thinking, Mr Segundus reached out and curled a hand around Childermass' fingers, so as to help them in their work, feeling the warmth of them, the slickness seeping out between Childermass' knuckles. This joining of hands didn't necessarily improve the rhythm of Childermass' strokes, however, for Childermass' hand stuttered underneath Mr Segundus' own.

"Mr Segundus..." said Childermass, in a very breathless sort of a way, but he did not open his eyes.

Now that Mr Segundus had reached his end, he found himself at liberty to think a little more clearly. This does not mean to say that he could choose the subject of his thoughts, however. Oh no. Mr Segundus' mind at that moment recalled the words that Childermass had confessed to him just a little while before, and there it stayed.

"You..." said Mr Segundus, wondering. "Is it true? You have... You have _yearned_ for it?"

"God, yes," hissed Childermass. His dark eyes glanced up at Mr Segundus, but only for a moment, for soon they were screwed shut again.

"Oh, Mr Childermass," whispered Mr Segundus. He allowed his grip upon Childermass' hand to loosen so that he might run his fingers in the opposite direction to Childermass' and so better feel the soft slickness of Childermass' piece. Oh my. Even with Mr Segundus' clear-headedness returned, he found he could not help but delight in the feel of Childermass' private member: hard and hot and perfect.

"I too have yearned for it," confessed Mr Segundus. He looked down to where their hands ran over each other. "So very much."

Childermass groaned again.

Oh, what response! Indeed, so gratifying was Childermass' reaction that Mr Segundus found himself encouraged to continue in his boldness. "Mr Childermass," said he, "if you knew how often I had thought of you, and thought of you in such a state as this..." He felt Childermass' piece twitch. "Oh! Mr Childermass, you need not have me tell you, perhaps, the acts of onanism I fell prey to while thinking of you touching your own piece, while remembering the sound of you touching your own p..."

"Fuck," gasped Childermass. "Fuck. Fuck. Mr Segundus..."

Childermass' hand increased greatly in pace, until the slick noise of it almost filled the room. It was all Mr Segundus could do to keep up with the strokes of his own hand.

Somewhat breathless with the exertion, Mr Segundus continued some more: "I thought of you reaching your end, Mr Childermass. I could not help myself. And I..."

Here Childermass breathed very hard and Mr Segundus suddenly felt a new and warm wetness upon his fingers. Looking down between them, he was just in time to see the final spurt of Childermass' seed as it landed upon both their hands.

Even though Childermass was still breathing hard, all the tension seemed to leave his body on an instant. He lolled onto his back, his head falling against the bolster, eyes closed and chest heaving. Childermass' hand then left his private piece, and in doing so took Mr Segundus' hand with it. Mr Segundus might have fancied that Childermass would want him to withdraw his hand altogether were it not for the fact that Childermass' hand quickly caught up Mr Segundus' own and pressed it, stickily, against Childermass' hip.

Childermass' next breath issued out in what very much sounded like a laugh. His messy fingers twined themselves with Mr Segundus' own. Then Childermass opened his eyes.

Mr Segundus felt himself flush up red as he found himself suddenly the subject of Childermass' gaze; and after all that Mr Segundus had said! Yet Childermass did not study him for long, for Childermass soon rolled over and kissed him.

Ah!

This kiss was not like their previous ones. It was, instead, more like the kisses that Mr Segundus had first imagined, with lips upon lips, soft and sweet and gentle. Childermass was holding Mr Segundus' hand so firmly that it almost seemed as if Childermass never meant to let it go again.

When the kiss broke, which it did shortly, Childermass drew back with a smile; and what could Mr Segundus do but smile in return?

Here Mr Segundus felt as if he should say something, but he did not at all know what. He looked down between them to where their sticky hands were clasped together. By rights, Mr Segundus knew that the polite action would be to get up and procure some cloth or handkerchief with which they could wipe themselves down, or to pull up the blankets so that they might be warm (as Mr Segundus was beginning to realise that the room was rather colder than it had felt a few moments ago) but Mr Segundus was loathe to do either of these things. Why, once Childermass was clean and comfortable, what would there then be to prevent him from returning to his own room and so leaving Mr Segundus in solitude? Thus, even though Mr Segundus knew he shouldn't, he resolved to be a selfish host and leave them in discomfort for a little while longer.

As Mr Segundus pondered upon the short time they had together and told himself that he must make the most of it, he suddenly remembered the book he had been reading before Childermass arrived (how long ago that now felt!) Had there not been all sorts of things about Bolby that Mr Segundus had meant to discuss with Childermass? Yet poor Mr Segundus, now that they had the opportunity to talk, found that after all that had occurred he could not remember any of the things he had meant to ask. Frustrated, he huffed to himself.

"Hm?" said Childermass in response. "What is it?" He squeezed Mr Segundus' fingers and said in a rather careful voice, "You are unhappy?"

"Oh!" Mr Segundus looked up to see Childermass frowning. "Oh! No!" replied Mr Segundus. "No, Mr Childermass! Not at all! I am merely annoyed; at myself I mean." He huffed again and ventured a small smile. "I had every intention of writing a list, you see, and yet I did not."

Childermass frowned some more, though not nearly so deeply as before. "A list?"

"Yes," said Mr Segundus, smiling more widely to consider how confusing he must sound. "Forgive me. I mean that I had a whole number of things to ask you and yet I cannot now remember any of them. The book I was reading before you arrived happened to have several interesting things to say about Bolby, and I..."

Childermass laughed. "A list about Bolby, is it? Well you need not remember them immediately," said he, grinning. "They will come back to you, I am sure. After all, there is plenty of time; the night is hardly begun."

Mr Segundus looked at him for a moment. "You do not mean to return soon to your own room, then?"

"No," said Childermass, his expression turning, it must be said, rather fond. "Unless you wish it, of course. But you told me you missed our sharing a bed together, and I find I am of the same mind." He smiled. "I must leave before Mary comes to light the fire in the morning..." (Mary was the chambermaid.) "...but until then I can stay for as long as you wish."

Mr Segundus found himself smiling widely in return. "I should like you to stay a long time," he replied. "If it is not presumptuous. I should you to stay for as long as possible."

Childermass laughed again. "As long as possible it is then."

The both of them lapsed into silence after this, content to lie with each other for a little while longer before handkerchiefs had to be procured and bedclothes pulled up.

Perhaps Childermass thought that Mr Segundus' silence was due to Mr Segundus trying to remember the questions about Bolby that he had meant to ask. If so, Childermass was wrong, for Mr Segundus' silence was of a different sort. You see, Mr Segundus was thinking just then that even though Childermass was content to stay, he would still have to steal away before morning to avoid discovery (for they were not meant to be sharing a bed any longer), and that, if Mr Segundus were to be blessed with Childermass wishing to visit him on further nights, everything would have to be carried out in a similar furtive, sneaking way.

Mr Segundus sighed.

"Another one!" exclaimed Childermass. "You have neglected to write another list, I suppose?"

Mr Segundus chuckled lightly. "No, no," said he. "I have been thinking of something else entirely."

"Oh?" asked Childermass.

"Mr Childermass," continued Mr Segundus, "I know we had no success at all with a spell for warmth." He smiled, feeling himself rather coy. "But do you think we might try our hand at a spell to make it colder instead?"

At this Childermass laughed very much and hugged Mr Segundus so close that he left a number of sticky stains upon Mr Segundus' nightshirt.


End file.
